Midnight's Kiss
by CrimsonRegret478
Summary: Lovino and Antonio have stood on death's doorstep once and are now facing that cold door again with more than just eternal darkness waiting for them. To save themselves, they're forced to give up everything they know and love. Which may cost them their very lives. Sequel to MD.
1. Chapter 1

**The sequel won by a landslide, folks! Majority rules so here's what I promised - a sequel. I hope you all will enjoy this one as much as you enjoyed Midnight Dancers. There will be plenty of things going on in this story so stick around! Thanks again for all the support!**

**Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Warning: Language.**

* * *

**Chapter One**

"_Papa?" he called out into the quiet house. "Are you home?"_

_Ten-year-old Antonio Vargas slid his backpack off his shoulders and set it to the floor. He noticed the scattered papers strewn about the coffee table. The laptop was resting on the couch, its screen black. The only thing missing was his father._

"_He might be taking a siesta," Antonio mused aloud, heading towards the stairs. Upon reaching his father's room, the door was slightly ajar and just from that small opening he could see Lovino curled up on the bed fast asleep._

_Antonio grinned mischievously, creeping inside the room as silent as a shadow. Jumping up, Antonio landed himself on top of his dad, expecting to be thrown into a wrestling match when the Italian woke up. But his dad didn't wake—in fact, he didn't even budge at the slightest._

"_Papa?" Antonio shook the man's shoulder. "Papa, wake up. It's time to get up."_

_Lovino didn't move._

_Why wouldn't his dad wake up? He usually did by this point. But there wasn't so much as a groan in protest, a twitch of his fingers or a shallow breath. Now that Antonio thought about it, his father did look a little pale. Maybe he was sick. Yeah. That's it. He was sick. No need to panic. Just stay calm. Placing his hand to his father's head, Antonio was shell-shocked—disturbed, even. Lovino's forehead was as cold as his face._

"_Papa, wake up you're scaring me. You win the game, okay? Just wake up," Antonio blinked when his hand came into contact with something warm, wet and sticky._

_Antonio jerked it back, staring at the crimson stain on his palm. Panic consumed him immediately, devouring him. Why was there blood on the sheets?_

_Antonio pushed his father over, gasping at the large hole in his father's chest. He wanted to scream but it was stuck in his throat. He wanted to cry but the tears didn't gather._

"_You finally made it home," a dark voice chuckled._

_Antonio spun, seeing cruel blue eyes and a gun as black as night. Marcello made a grab for him, his strong arms holding Antonio firmly against his body._

"_Time to die," the cool barrel was placed to his head._

_BANG!_

* * *

"No!" Antonio thrashed in his sheets, thinking they were Marcello's arms still holding him in that suffocating embrace. "No! No! No! Get away! Papa!"

The light came on moments later and Lovino was seated at the edge of Antonio's bed calling his name but the boy didn't seem to hear him.

"Antonio!" Lovino placed his hands on both sides of his son's face, trying desperately to reach the frightened boy and get him to open his eyes and look at him. "Toni, look at me! It's all right!"

Emerald orbs shot open, darting around the room in frenzy. They then made contact with eyes identical to his and the tears he had yet to shed spilled over flushed cheeks.

"Papa!" Antonio fell into his father's arms and wept heavily, the horrifying images of the man's mutilated and frozen body flashed through his mind like a horror film on repeat. "Papa…"

"Shh, it's okay, Toni. I'm here," Lovino stroked Antonio's head which was damp with sweat. The nightmares had returned with a vengeance. They figured the time of peace was too long.

Almost every night after the whole ordeal with… a certain person (just saying the man's name was taboo and struck a chord of fear in Antonio's heart), the boy woke up screaming and running a fever. Antonio hadn't slept alone up until two years ago and didn't leave his father's side unless absolutely necessary. The nightmares still infested Antonio's fragile mind, however. He would still get them every few weeks or so and had now gone a full year without being disturbed.

_And he was doing so well, _Lovino thought, kissing his son's head.

There wasn't a day that went by that Lovino wished he would've had the strength and courage to pull the trigger and be rid of the man responsible for all this fear and anxiety. Sure it wouldn't have cast away the traumatization but it would have at least spared them the paranoia.

_Watch your back._

The desire to kill his former love ran strong in Lovino's veins again. Why didn't he just kill the man then and there? Marcello was clearly suffering and ending his life would've been the humane thing to do.

At least that's what his logic was telling him.

_Maybe I really am my father's son._

"He killed you, Papa…" Antonio hiccupped, burying his face in Lovino's shirt. "He killed you. And he was going to kill me… I was so scared…!"

"Antonio, look at me," Lovino said.

The boy lifted his head, his eyes still spilling tears. He sniffled, trying to wipe away the annoying liquid. He was ten-years-old—he shouldn't be crying. He wasn't a baby anymore! He was a big kid! This was so embarrassing!

"Don't worry about him. Marcello's in jail. I know it's hard not to, but you don't have to be afraid," Lovino tried speaking in a calm tone.

Antonio visibly cringed upon hearing that cursed man's name again but what Lovino said was true—Marcello was indeed in jail for the crimes he committed as were the rest of the men involved in the scheme. The chances of his escaping were slim to none but Antonio couldn't help but feel nauseous at the mere thought of Marcello wandering the streets, searching for them, wanting them six feet under and remembered only by tombstones.

The reassurance in his father's voice was comforting though. As long as his dad was here, he'd be safe. He believed that. He had to believe that.

"You believe me, don't you?" Lovino's voice tore Antonio from agonizing thoughts.

"Yes," Antonio nodded solemnly. "I believe you, Papa."

It was then that Lovino offered a comforting smile and it was returned by Antonio's uneasy one. The Italian was so used to the Spaniard who was cheerful and blithe that seeing the boy having to fret over whether the nightmares would haunt him at night made Lovino unsure of himself.

There was a long pause between the two and this gave Antonio time to settle down but he still clung to his father, listening to the rhythmic beat of the man's heart. It was melodic almost, the music of a living and breathing human being. His dad was here. He was alive. There was nothing to be afraid of. He was safe.

He now had the sudden desire to hear his dad play the piano. The music, no what or how long he played, had a soothing effect on him. Maybe his dad would play for him—despite it being four in the morning. For as long as he could remember, just to console him, Lovino would play when Antonio was scared no matter the time. But that's when he was still a baby. If he asked, and even if his dad said no, it wouldn't hurt to seek out solace.

"Toni? Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," Antonio nodded slowly. "I'm okay. I was just wondering if…"

"If…?"

Antonio took a minute to reconsider his request and it died away on his lips, "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Y-Yeah. I'm sure. Sorry for bothering you," Antonio released his hold on Lovino's shirt.

"What makes you think you're bothering me?" Lovino raised an eyebrow. Why was he acting like this? So diffident, so solitary… it wasn't like Antonio to behave this way.

The nightmare was definitely a probably reason. But still, Lovino couldn't fight the feeling that there was more than his son was letting him in on…

"Antonio, what is it? I can't help if you won't tell me."

"Nothing, Papa; I'm just tired," Antonio threw an unconvincing smile at his parent. When he saw that Lovino didn't appear swayed he hid himself underneath his covers, mumbling that he was fine and just wanted to go back to sleep.

Lovino, not wanting to push the boy further, respected his wishes and placed a gentle kiss to Antonio's head. Returning to the door, Lovino flicked off the light, spared one last glance at Antonio's form illuminated in the moon's glow and closed the door.

Certain that his father was gone Antonio removed the blankets from his face and stared at his red and green walls. The moonlight made the shadows swallow up the room and the tree branches crawled the walls like scraggly fingers. He hoped that the darkness would take him before the nightmares did. He didn't want the torture. He didn't want the agony. And the only thing numbing it was lost hope.

Closing his eyes, Antonio was sent into the world of shadows, terror and insanity.

* * *

"Toni, are you ready to go?" Lovino called up the stairs, concerned that Antonio had yet to reveal himself.

"I'm coming, Papa," Antonio mechanically came down the stairs. The child already had his backpack on and was ready to go.

"Are you sure you want to go to school today?" Lovino took note of the dark circles shading his son's eyes.

"I'm positive," was the boy's reply.

"Okay," Lovino sounded uncertain. "Are you going to eat anything?"

"No. I'm not hungry."

Lovino nodded, "Okay. Have a good day."

"Bye, Papa," Antonio hurried out the door and met Sienna who was just passing by his house.

"Hey Toni!" the girl waved happily.

"_Hola, _Sienna," Antonio mumbled, not bothering to look at her or even stop walking.

Sienna was left confused as the boy kept on strolling along.

* * *

Antonio was sprawled out in the backyard among the tomatoes, eyes closed, soaking up the sun. A butterfly landed on his nose and tickled it but he did not wave it away. Lovino watched him from the window, absolutely puzzled. When Antonio had arrived home while walking with Sienna as he always did, the boy hardly said a word other than "hello" and went straight outside.

Sighing, Lovino went to answer his cell phone which was now ringing. He didn't even make the effort to check the caller I.D.

"_Ciao."_

"_Ciao, fratello. Are you okay? You don't sound too good," _Feliciano's mood lost its cheerfulness.

"Yeah—just tired. Toni's nightmares came back last night."

"_Again? He was doing great!"_

"I know, Feli. I know. He's acting strange now. Like he's bothered by something much more than the nightmares. He won't tell me what though. I was surprised he went to school today," Lovino said, never taking his eyes off the boy.

"_Maybe Sienna can talk to him—you know they've always been really close," _Feliciano suggested.

Lovino nodded though he knew his brother couldn't see it.

"_Well we're on our way to help with dinner, fratello!" _Feliciano's grin practically radiated from the other end of the line.

"All right, no need to yell in my ear, _idiota!" _Lovino held the device away from his ear. "I'll see you soon."

Hanging up, Lovino shifted his attention back to Antonio. The boy was still lying on the ground, the butterfly resting on his nose. Lovino wondered if Sienna could get through to him. Feliciano sounded too hopeful. But Lovino couldn't pessimistic. If anyone could get through to Antonio, Sienna could.

* * *

"You're really quiet today, Toni. Are you feeling okay?" Sienna raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah—I don't know why everyone is asking me that. I'm not sick," Antonio sat up.

"You've just been acting weird," the girl replied rather bluntly, a trait she had picked up from Feliciano.

"Weird how?"

"You're quiet, more edgy. Like when I put my hand on your shoulder today at school and you jumped," Sienna replied.

Antonio brought his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, withdrawing. She was right, he had been acting weird—he didn't even say that much to his dad when he arrived home. No one deserved to receive the cold shoulder no matter what mood he was in.

"Uncle Lovi's really worried about you, you know. I overheard my mom and dad talking about it. So what's wrong, little brother?" Sienna smiled sweetly to disarm the boy.

"Nightmares," Antonio said and understanding flashed in Sienna's electric eyes.

"Ah. So they've come back? I was hoping they were gone for good."

"Me too. I can't… I'm scared, I mean—" Antonio held his head in his hands, frustrated and confused. He couldn't explain his fear, the fear nibbling at him, mocking him, reminding him that it was there and there to stay.

"What're you afraid of, Antonio?"

"Him hurting me, hurting my dad. I don't want to be left alone… with him," Antonio didn't want to say the name burning on his tongue. Just thinking of the man made his heart race, his stomach drop, and mind reel with the memories of the week he was starved, beaten, and knocked on death's door. He could still taste the water from his close encounter.

"You're safe, Antonio. He can't hurt you or your dad. He's in jail," Sienna said.

"I-I know. But what if he escapes? Then he'll come after us and—and—" Antonio didn't dare think of the horrors that man had in store for them.

"Toni, Toni," Sienna put her hands on his shoulders, "he won't get out. You have nothing to worry about."

Antonio hugged the girl, trembling. And she hugged him back, whispering comforting words. It's not like she knew what he was experiencing. She was with her uncle Gilbert all the way in Germany. All she remembered was missing her mom and dad and having a good time with him. She was completely oblivious to what had happened in her hometown. Only when Antonio had woken up screaming during one of their sleepovers did she find out.

_Antonio is incredibly strong, _she thought. She was certain that there was no way in hell she would remain as cheerful as he was after what he endured.

Lovino observed the duo, "You were right, Feli. She got him to talk."

"I think he's more comfortable with Sienna because she is still a kid herself. I think he's afraid that if he tells you what's bothering him, you'll judge him," Feliciano was checking on the pizza in the oven.

"But I'm his dad. He knows I wouldn't judge him," Lovino couldn't help but feel a little put out.

"And you're right—he does know. But I think kids have a deeper connection with each other than with us adults. Sienna's the same way. Kids are always looking to impress their parents in everything they do and when they're ashamed of something, they'll do their best to hide it," Feliciano explained.

Lovino sighed, "You're better at this than I am."

His little brother laughed lightly, "You were kind of thrown into this, _fratello. _Ludwig and I were planning on adopting years before you even considered kids. You're still learning."

"What are you, my therapist now?" Lovino mocked.

"Maybe."

The timer on the over went off, indicating that the pizza was done. Feliciano opened the oven and pulled out the tray with an oven mitt and placed it on top of the stove.

"Perfect," he smiled, admiring the golden brown crust and enticing smell.

Ludwig helped set the table while Lovino went to fetch the kids.

"You guys hungry?" Lovino asked and they turned immediately.

"You bet I am!" Sienna shot to her feet and ran inside, leaving Antonio behind.

"Papa, I—I—" Antonio hugged his dad, struggling to hold back his tears.

"It'll be all right, Toni," Lovino knew what the boy was trying say.

Lovino rested his hand on his son's head and mussed his brunette curls, "Hungry?"

"Uh-huh!" Antonio's somber expression was replaced with a grin that rivaled the setting sun.

They went inside to enjoy the last peaceful dinner they would ever have again.

* * *

He inhaled the fresh air and let it cool his sweating face. He evened out his breathing from the long run he had just taken. His heart was ready to erupt from his chest with excitement and adrenaline. His muscles were on fire but it was the good kind of fire, the kind that urged him to keep going.

The stars twinkled brightly in the velvet sky and he smirked. He felt confident, assured. Nothing would be getting in the way of what he wanted this time. And what he coveted was blacker than night itself. There were no petty feelings, no one to tell him what to do and what decisions were best.

No one would be holding him back this time.

He was a free man and able to do as he pleased.

And how he reveled in that freedom—it tasted sweet on his lips, heavenly almost.

Revenge seethed inside his tattered heart and mind, soaking up the sensation of pure hatred. He grinned. It was wonderful, this aversion. Friendship, comfort, encouragement… love—he did not need these things. He hated those feelings! He detested them, spit on them! They had left him with nothing but a maimed heart and a mind bursting with madness.

And he had only one objective. And completing that objective was his life's goal.

He walked down the street with his head held high, arrogance shining with every step he took.

_Camille, I haven't forgotten you. I promise that your death will not be in vain._

He could already picture the two headstones now, cold and isolated just as he was.

* * *

Lovino and Feliciano were cleaning up the dishes while Ludwig was keeping the kids occupied by having a wrestling match in the living room.

"Don't break anything!" Lovino yelled after Antonio and Sienna had tackled the German to the floor.

"We won't make any promises!" Sienna called back.

The older Italian rolled his eyes and began washing the plates, handing them to Feliciano so he could dry them. The chatter between the two was light with sounds of laughing resounding from the living room every few moments or so. The phone ringing broke this moment apart. Feliciano hurried to answer it, dismissing Lovino's objections.

"_Ciao, _Vargas household. This is Feliciano speaking," Feliciano smiled. "Oh hi, Davide~ how have you—yes, he's here… is everything all right?"

The smile was gone in an instant.

"It's for you, _fratello. _It's Mr. Moretti. You know, the man that helped us turn 'you-know-who' in," Feliciano held out the phone. "He says it's urgent."

"Hello?" Lovino put it to his ear.

"_Mr. Vargas?"_

"Who is this?"

"_It's Davide Moretti. I would've come by but I don't have the time."_

"Oh yeah, I remember you know. Feliciano didn't give me a first name," Lovino handed another plate to his younger brother. "What's the problem? Why would you need to come by my house?"

"_Where are you right now?"_

"At home, why?" the Italian raised an eyebrow.

"_I need you and your son to pack up what you can and leave your house immediately," _Davide was sounding more desperate by the second.

"What the hell is going on? An explanation sure would be fucking nice!" Lovino was beginning to get very irritated very quickly.

"_It's Marcello."_

Lovino stiffened at the name, "W-What about him?"

"_He's escaped from prison."_

The dish in Lovino's hand littered the floor with porcelain shards.


	2. Chapter 2

**All right, this chapter isn't that long but I've been under a lot of stress for the past week (it's amazing how quickly things can turn around in life) and it reflects in this chapter. I am deeply sorry for that. I hope you all will enjoy this nonetheless and I will be working on the third one as soon as time allows. It will be better. I have testing all next week so this weekend and next week there will be no updates and I will be focusing on trying to pass said tests. I'm really worried about the math one...**

**Anywho...**

**Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Warnings: Language.**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

The house was silent save for the pieces of the plate tinkling on the floor. Feliciano jumped at the sound and the kids and Ludwig came running. Lovino stood frozen, phone in hand, fear pumping through his veins.

"_We're doing everything we can to track him down. I want you and Antonio gone within the hour. Tell Feliciano to leave town as well. My partner will be over shortly to escort them home so they can pack their things and leave. I will be there to pick you two up soon," _Davide explained, panicked but trying to remain calm for the obviously terrified man on the other end of the line.

Lovino swallowed thickly and dryly, taking it all in and cradled the phone with both hands, "How long? How long has it been since he got out?"

Antonio froze. His stomach was in a thousand knots and he could no longer breathe. His world suddenly turned very dark and cold and shattered to a million pieces. Marcello had escaped from prison and was coming after them with revenge in his heart.

He choked on his dread and his vision blurred, melting to form the picture of Marcello's vindictive expression. The boy shuddered though no one seemed to notice.

"_An hour. At least that's what the prison who held him claims. I don't work with them directly so their definition of an hour and my definition are entirely different. The prison is about five hours outside of town. It'll take nearly an entire day to reach Cuore on foot. But I'm not taking any chances. He's psychotic—that's why you all need to hurry. My partner should be there by now. I'll be there in twenty minutes tops. Understand?"_

"Yeah," Lovino's voice shook.

There was a knock at the door but no one moved. No one could even breathe.

"_I hope you realize how serious this is."_

"What do you take me for? An idiot? Of course I know," Lovino ran a hand through his hair. He sighed, the malice in his voice was deriving from his panic. "Thanks for letting us know."

"_Don't thank me yet. We haven't made it out of town. Now open the door for my partner, if you would. He's waiting."_

They hung up and without a word to the others, Lovino opened the door to reveal a burly man with a stoic expression and hard coffee eyes. He didn't seem too pleased at the fact that he was kept waiting.

"What in the world is going on, Lovino? Who is that?" Ludwig questioned, glaring at the stranger.

"This is Davide's partner. He'll be escorting you home," Lovino answered.

"What? Why?" Feliciano was becoming sick to his stomach. _"Fratello, _what is going on?"

"I promise that I'll explain everything on the way," the man said. "But we have to hurry."

The family in question looked unnerved.

"Everything is fine," Lovino assured. "You can trust him."

"But what about you?" Feliciano wondered.

"I'll be fine. I have my own ride to catch," Lovino said. "Now go. You have to get out of town."

The family shuffled out the door and Antonio remained confused—what was going on? He had to keep asking himself that. Marcello wasn't free. He wasn't out roaming the streets. He wasn't…he wasn't…

"Papa—"

"Antonio, I need you to listen to me very carefully and do exactly as I say," Lovino set his firm gaze on the boy.

"Why, Papa? Where are we going?" Antonio questioned.

"Antonio, just _please _do as I say. Right now," Lovino's voice was dark and uncertain.

Antonio stumbled up the stairs and dumped out his school backpack. The papers, pencils, and other supplies tumbled to the floor. He stuffed it with clothes just as his father told him to and used another to pack his most prized possessions such as the box of toy soldiers Arthur made for him, the airplane Gilbert brought him, and the toy truck Francis got for him many Christmases ago fit in easily as well. He scanned his room, spotting the family photo of him, his dad, Sienna and Feliciano. He couldn't leave that behind. Taking it out of the frame, he placed it in his pocket. But as he did this, something else fluttered to the floor.

He picked it up and immediately recognized it. The photo Camille gave him had some wear and tear damage but was otherwise in very good condition. He had forgotten he placed it behind the frame.

_Remember me._

He could never forget Camille or the sacrifice she made. He was eternally grateful to her and would forever consider her a very dear friend. He remembered being worried that his dad wouldn't let him keep the picture but was relieved to know that his dad had no quarrels with it. In fact, he had a smile on his face when he said yes.

Antonio often saw the girl in his dreams. The area would be filled with a dim light and she would be surrounded by a warm and golden radiance with wings that spread out along the horizon. She would hug him tenderly as if he was made of fine china. She would whisper sweet words to him, her voice like a mellifluous song.

He liked those dreams.

He was safe in those dreams.

The darkness couldn't touch him there. It couldn't hurt him—it couldn't leave its searing kiss on his soul. Antonio wanted to follow her when it came time for her to leave. He begged Camille to take him to wherever she came from. But the answer was always a painful no.

_You have so much going for you, Toni. Don't wish your life away. You have a family that loves you and a father that adores you. He'd do anything for you. It's a chance I never really had._

Camille was right.

His dad did love him.

He had been a fool for wanting to disappear into thin air like she did. But the nightmares… they made it so tempting to want to fade away and no longer having to endure this suffering. Shaking his head, Antonio folded the picture and put it in his pocket to accompany his family's photo.

"Toni? Are you ready?" Lovino called up the stairs.

"Coming Papa!" Antonio said, slinging one backpack on his shoulders and carrying the other in his hand. He glanced back at his room, trying to see if he had forgotten anything. Nope. Nothing left behind.

Antonio sprinted down the stairs but his father was nowhere to be found. He could, however, hear the man bustling about the house, trying to get things done as quickly and as efficiently as possible. Antonio didn't dare ask where they were going again lest he burst into tears.

The boy bit his lip, his eyes becoming annoyingly moist. This fear, this overwhelming fear… he wanted it to go away. He wanted it dead. He wanted Marcello dead.

Catching sight of his tomato pillow beside him, Antonio buried his face in it, crying the tears he didn't want his dad to see. He had to be brave.

But finding bravery in fear was a lot harder than it sounded.

* * *

Marcello continued his long trek towards Cuore, certain that he had ditched the cops. Unless Lovino had received word that he had escaped—which he was most positive that the man was forewarned—he was in no hurry. He wanted to savor in his revenge; he wanted its sweet and satisfying taste to run through his system for as long as possible. Lovino, and especially Antonio, would be dying painfully and slow.

He pulled out the picture of Camille he always had with him back when he was in the mafia. Her smiling face and bright eyes were what he loved about her. And not only that, she was a fighter. He was convinced that she showed defiance when Cristiano ended her life. She never went down without doing so.

He kissed the picture and stuffed it back into his pocket. He was glad he was able to obtain the picture back from the guards who held him in the prison. Turns out the training in the mafia helped out all too well. Killing the guards had been a thrill, an adrenaline rush. The blood spraying onto his face and clothes warmed his cold heart.

He would have to find a place to stay between here and Cuore. Luckily for him, the closest town was only ten minutes away if he ran. He took off at a sprint to the town of Forza. It was quaint and small even though the name meant strength. No one would recognize him if he kept on the down low.

_That shouldn't be too hard, _he thought.

Entering town, he caught sight of a late night store and went inside, not making eye contact with the employee at the register. Not that said employee was interested. He looked like he would rather be sawing his own arm off than working so late at night.

Marcello wandered the aisles until he found what he was looking for.

One more thing off the checklist.

* * *

"Ready to go?" Davide had already surveyed the house twice to make sure Marcello wasn't hiding underneath even the smallest of pebbles.

Lovino could only nod and kept Antonio close.

"Good. Let's get moving," Davide led them out of the house, glancing around cautiously.

Father and son climbed into the backseat of the car and Davide sped off, leaving no room for second thoughts. The ride out of town was quiet save for the soft sniffles that escaped from Antonio. The boy clung to his father tightly and Lovino held onto him with the same vigor, worried that someone would try and pry his son out of his hands.

"Your brother and his family should be well out of town by now," Davide broke the tension.

"Will we be meeting up later?" Lovino couldn't help but ask.

Davide paused, "No. It's too risky if we do that. I understand that you want to stay together but everyone's safety is my top priority. The distance between you both will be far too great for Marcello to attempt and catch you at once."

"Define 'distance,'" Lovino's voice was now callous. He definitely didn't like where this was going. "I don't want anything happening to my brother."

"We know that and that's why we're keeping you two apart. We can't give Marcello the opportunity to use one of you to lure the other in."

"Where will my brother be going?" Lovino grit his teeth.

"Probably to Germany or some other country," Davide replied. "You, too, will not be staying in Italy."

Antonio clenched his hands around Lovino's clothing. He would be leaving his hometown? All his friends would be left behind, wondering where he went. He would be moving to a new country and a new school with new people. He didn't know if he'd be able to handle this…

"I will unregister Antonio from school and enroll him in his new one," Davide said. "The new house you will be living in is one I lived in when I was still a kid. Everything is already paid off so you don't have to worry."

"_Where _in the hell are we going?" Lovino growled, growing impatient.

"People who live there call it The Land of the Free."


	3. Chapter 3

**/shot for updating when I said there would be none.**

**Okay, guys, this update was rather... unexpected, even for me. I was writing it out after I finished testing (which by the way I was stuck in the same room for 5 hours straight) and before I knew it, I was done. I had a short day at school today so I managed to get this all typed out. Hooray! /shot. It might seem confusing in some parts because well, Marcello's f-ing insane and I wanted to give it that impression. He doesn't know what he wants.**

**Parts of this chapter was strongly based on the song Mother Murder by Hollywood Undead. It's a great song and it fit Lovino's and Marcello's situation all too perfectly.**

**Anywho, I have another test (this time it's chemistry) and I really need to get to bed.**

**Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Warnings: Language.**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

He ran his hand through his blonde hair, admiring his work. There were hardly any strands of his brunette curly locks left though some were visible, making him a dirty blonde—sort of. He doubted anyone would recognize him. He hardly recognized himself. The green contacts made his eyes a teal hue. The lack of sunlight over the years changed his skin to a lighter shade of tan, completing his new physical appearance.

"_**Well, you look adequate,"**_Camille appeared behind him as Marcello studied himself in the mirror, floating only inches off the ground. **"**_**I didn't think bleaching your hair would work out as well as it did."**_

"Why do you doubt me?" Marcello was picking through his hair to locate the brunette strands so he could cover them up sufficiently.

"_**I have plenty of reason to,"**_Camille hovered away from him and Marcello had a dim look on his face upon realizing what she was referring to.

"_**We both know whose fault it is, Marcello. And it isn't yours. Yes, we established that you made a mistake. You're only human,"**_she added.

"Yes… I'm only human…" Marcello murmured.

"_**Now tell me whose fault it is,"**_Camille said.

Marcello felt the anger bubble up inside him again.

"_**Tell me whose fault it is,"**_his sister urged.

"Antonio and Lovino," Marcello's voice was quiet.

"_**Who? I can't hear you,"**_Camille cupped her hand over her ear

"Antonio and Lovino," he said it louder.

"_**Who?"**_

"Antonio and Lovino!"

"_**Don't ever forget that. Don't ever forget that they are the cause of your suffering."**_

Marcello grinned, his pearly white teeth showing and chuckled to himself. Simply envisioning about the torture made his heart race. Just imagine the overwhelming rush when he would actually have Antonio's life in the palm of his hand! He would be able to do as he pleased! Every drop of blood, every breaking bone and every pain-filled scream would be a symphony to him—a symphony of darkness and destruction. He was absolutely ecstatic!

Lovino.

Thinking of the Italian made him want to puke.

Lovino had become everything he had ever wanted and more. That everything had been shattered the moment Camille died. Love was responsible for such things, for this pain he had to endure every second of the day. He would kill his love.

Murder it.

Slaughter it.

Exiting the bathroom, Marcello sifted through the new clothes he had bought himself. With cash, of course. Couldn't let the authorities know of his location. Then again, he did "borrow" the money from some unlucky pedestrian wandering the streets. Such fragile beings they were. Life is such a delicate balance—you tip it over too far and it all comes crashing down.

Sure, that man didn't deserve to die but that was just another pawn off the chessboard. He would find his knights soon for he was the king and had to be protected. Logic would get him through this. Just stay one step ahead of your enemy and you'll succeed.

_What logic is in this? _A voice chastised inside his head, the voice that had grown over the time he had spent with Lovino. It was the side that didn't shut up his entire "guilt-and-grief" phase. It scolded him like he was a child, demanding how he could've hurt Lovino and Antonio so badly without remorse.

_But I did have remorse—I endured it every second, _he had tried to convince the Voice.

The Voice wasn't having it though. It continued to reprimand him, driving him to the point where he thought suicide would be his best option. He just wanted to escape from it for the rest of eternity. He didn't want to hear the cursing, the mocking and the rebuking. But upon thinking of his sister, suicide was not a possibility.

That was when Camille appeared to him, surrounded by a beautiful light, promising freedom and revenge if he did as she said to the smallest detail. That's when they began planning his escape. During that time, he was no longer lonely or worried. With Camille at his side, he would be unstoppable.

Others, especially his cellmate, couldn't see Camille. They claimed he was a lunatic and needed to be admitted to an asylum. But she was there. Marcello knew she was there and that was all that mattered. Even the Voice called him insane. How could it not see what he saw if it was inside his own head?

They were all idiots and they would all be dying soon.

Especially the Voice.

It would nag at him every so often and now he pointedly ignored its whispers, finding them nothing but white noise on a busted TV. The Voice was still there though—watching his every move, listening to his thoughts, waiting for the moment that Marcello would slip up so it could attack him again.

He sighed. Why now of all times was he rethinking this? It seemed perfectly sensible when he was in jail. Why was he feeling guilt's sting again?

This guilt was poison to his burgeoning plan.

His life needed cleansing of that toxin.

It would kill him if he wasn't purified.

He didn't want to die again. His heart wouldn't be able to handle the massacre. Lovino and Antonio must be dealt with accordingly. They needed to be disposed of before they hurt and killed someone else. This had to be done otherwise another body would be added to his overbearing conscience. He couldn't live with _that _guilt.

He glanced at his only picture of Camille in her bright yellow sundress and lush brunette curls of hair and a contagious smile. She was only four in the photo. She was just beginning her life of a destructive spiral.

What had she done to deserve death?

Nothing.

She was innocent.

Why did that monster have to pull the trigger?

He didn't know—and its not like he could ask the man. He could only wish that Cristiano was burning in the fiery depths of hell.

"_**Avenge me,"**_he heard Camille whisper hauntingly in his ear. "_**Kill them. Kill them all."**_

"I will," Marcello declared aloud. "Your death with not be in vain."

"_**Yes,"**_she hissed. "_**Don't let them do this to anyone else. Kill them just like they killed you! Earn your place at my side in heaven by destroying those demons!"**_

"With pleasure," Marcello grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder and exited the room.

He checked out f the run-down motel without so much as a word. Calculating how long it would take him to get to Cuore on foot from this town, he would reach it in about a day.

Too long.

He wanted blood.

He _needed_ it.

He needed to unleash what had been created inside his heart. The world needed to taste what has been nourished. That was the only way things were to change. He couldn't wait! Hot-wiring a nearby car, he sped off in the direction of Cuore.

"_**Patience, brother,"**_Camille seemed to have heard his every thought. It didn't surprise him. She was an angel. She knew everything. **"Your chance will come in time.** _**You must not be so hasty. Remember where you ended up last time?"**_

"I can't help it though," Marcello said to the empty seat next to him. "They need to die. Right now."

"_**Patience!"**_she screeched and he flinched, hitting the brakes hard. "_**Patience. That is all that is needed right now. Let them put their guard down. Let them get comfortable with the fact that you're not coming after them."**_

"How can you be so sure?" Marcello growled. "Lovino is not an idiot. He knows I'll be after them."

"_**That's why we're biding our time. They need to be assured that they are safe and you are thousands of miles away from them—which you will be,"**_Camille explained as if that was the obvious.

"What do you mean?" Marcello raised an eyebrow.

"_**I mean that they are no longer going to be in Italy by the end of the night if we let them go. And we **_**will **_**let them go, understand?"**_

"But they killed you! I can't let them go!"

"_**You can and you will!"**_her voice rang like alarm bells.

The man remained silent. Of course he had to listen to her—she was an angel and he was a human. She was his guardian angel and he had to obey her. Guardian angels were there to protect their loved ones. They knew what was best. Camille was no different.

"_**My dear, big brother,"**_Camille's voice was now honey sweet. "_**You must not let your emotions cloud your better judgment. I—God has called upon you to rid the world of these demons. You are the chosen one. You bear this burden and honor on your shoulders. You must complete this task quickly but carefully."**_

Marcello was quiet.

"_**I know you've never been a real religious person but believe me when I say this: you have been chosen."**_

"I believe you," the man whispered. "I believe you…"

"_**Good. Now let's get going. We've got some hunting to do,"**_Camille's voice carried a thick and dark undertone. She had him eating out of the palm of her hand.

"Do you know where they're headed, sis?" Marcello couldn't help but ask.

"_**And if I do?" **_she challenged.

"Tell me."

"_**You're in no position to be ordering me around, fratello. I know things you don't and more than you could ever want to know. Watch your tongue."**_

"You have to tell me, Camille. How am I supposed to plan if I don't know where they are?"

"_**Simple: you plan. It doesn't matter what country they're in if you know what you're doing. So keep driving to Cuore. The last thing we need is you charging in blindly and getting shot at first sight. Then you'd be useless for the mission you've received by God."**_

"But Camille—"

"_**I want you by my side, Marcello. I don't want to be alone here. I need my older brother," **_Camille held herself, whimpering softly.

"And I'll be there," Marcello assured. "You won't be alone for long, I promise."

"_**Promise?"**_

"I promise."

"_**Thank you, fratello," **_she smiled all too innocently.

Marcello glanced over at his sister, finding comfort that she was there with him and supporting his decision. She looked human but he figured that was because she didn't want anyone driving around to see that there was an angel in his vehicle.

_She wants to keep me looking sane, _Marcello thought. _She's doing this all for me so I can join her. I'm not taking care of her anymore—she's taking care of me, something I was unable to do. And for that I owe her my life._

The knife in Camille's hands glinted in the moonlight, stained with blood. His eyes trailed to his hands and they, too, were covered in the red substance. Marcello blinked, thinking it was some kind of hallucination. But it never went away.

Whose blood could it be?

His?

Lovino's?

Antonio's?

Was it his bleeding heart or Lovino's? Something—or someone—was telling him it was Lovino's. If only this vision were true! It would quench his irresistible thirst and dry the tears he had cried on the road to insanity. He remembered believing that Lovino might as well have driven a knife through his heart, twisting and turning it. But the Italian had missed and left a gaping wound.

He remembered feeling guilty for being alive—for having a beating heart and taking a breath of air.

There was none of that now.

He found the blood on his hands comforting.

* * *

"America? We're going to America?" Lovino's body became rigid.

"Yes. Do you speak English, Lovino? Well, I mean," Davide nodded, glancing at the duo in the backseat.

"Yeah. Feliciano and I travelled a lot as kids," Lovino replied.

"Does Antonio?"

"No. I haven't spoken to him in English at all. All he knows is Italian and Spanish."

"They speak Spanish in America," Davide offered.

"He doesn't know it well enough to carry on full conversations," Lovino countered. "And I can't help him with that. I only know a little myself."

Davide sighed, "Pity. You're going to have to teach him all you can. He'll be starting school next year so you're kind of on crunch time."

Lovino nodded, not really listening. Antonio, however, took in every word as if his life depended on it. His whole life was taking a huge revolution and he was powerless to stop it. He would be leaving his hometown, his friends, his family. Davide had said there was a possibility Sienna, Uncle Feliciano, and Uncle Ludwig could be moving all the way to Germany.

They would be in two different countries. And then there was the possibility that he would never see his cousin again even if they made it out of this predicament alive. He knew that asking his father not to move would be pointless but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He had to trust his dad though. His dad knew best and he really didn't want to face Marcello again. He didn't want to drown in those oceanic eyes.

Nuzzling his face into Lovino's shirt, he dampened it with large tears and closed his eyes, falling into the darkness he was so familiar with. At least the nightmares didn't capture him before the shadows did. He could rest easy with that simple fact. Maybe he would see Camille again…

Feeling the warm liquid, Lovino stared at his son crying in his sleep. Was it another nightmare or the fact that leaving everything behind was devastating to the boy? He didn't doubt either one. Not intending on disturbing the boy, Lovino ran his fingers through Antonio's thick curls.

How could one person cause so much destruction in a matter of months? How could someone have that capability and _still _be able to live with themselves? The Italian felt the hate brew inside of him. It was odd, really, thinking of the possibility that Marcello was actually a good person on the inside and they would be able to live a somewhat happy life.

There was not a drop of decency in that man. That would be asking for too much. He sometimes wished Antonio was here—the grown Antonio. No one would ever compare to his first love.

Lovino had made an honest effort to love Marcello as much as he had loved Antonio before all hell broke loose. He had tried to treat the two as equals but in the end, when he was kissing Marcello, he pictured Antonio. And in that time, he was being deceived and plotted against ever so eagerly.

Like a thief in the night, Marcello snuck behind him and shattered every piece of him, killing him twice by kidnapping Antonio and threatening the boy's life. Marcello had to kill Lovino so he could finally sleep in peace which would be a false sense of peace.

_It's only a matter of time before you burn in hell._


	4. Chapter 4

**Ugh. Motivation for this story is low. I have no clue what's wrong with me. Maybe it's because I left my Hetalia spiral at home that has all my ideas in it... eh. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this very short chapter, which by the way I am so sorry for. Testing left me brain dead. I'm trying my best to make a long chapter without rambling or give up what's going to happen next. /sigh. What kind of author am I?**

**If you would like, you may send your ideas to me via PM or review. Whichever floats your boat. Ideas are very much appreaciated!**

**Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Warnings: Language**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

"Feliciano," a hand nudged his shoulder. "Feliciano, wake up."

"Ludwig…?" the sleepy Italian's voice slurred.

"Ja, it's me."

Feliciano's vision finally cleared enough to focus on the blonde man in front of him. The Italian glanced around after noticing that a significant weight and warmth was missing. Sienna—where was she?

"Sienna," Feliciano was more alert. "Where's Sienna?"

"Don't worry," Ludwig placed his hands firmly on his lover's shoulders to give off the feeling of security. "She's in the car with Gilbert safe and sound."

Relief settled on Feliciano's heart but was still wary of the dark plane, "Where are we?"

"Germany—the plane just landed."

Feliciano nodded, stretching out his stiff limbs and stood up with Ludwig's assistance. The German took the Italian's hand and led the latter out the private plane to where Gilbert had parked his car. The duo climbed into the back, careful not to disturb their sleeping daughter. Sienna, sensing the new warmth, leaned over and clung to Ludwig without waking up.

Feliciano, with sleep tugging at him again, rested his head on Ludwig's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"Does Sienna know any German, bruder? She'll have hell if she doesn't," Gilbert asked, trying to spark a conversation.

"She does. She knows both languages," Ludwig replied.

"Good. I enrolled her in the school we went to as kids so you can guarantee she won't have any problems with other kids," Gilbert said.

"Thank you for letting us stay here with you," Ludwig began in German to Gilbert who was already driving off, leaving the Italian officer to head back to his hometown.

"No problem," Gilbert replied in the same language. "We're family—we stick together. Plus, I'm too awesome to leave my brother and his family out in the cold. I mean, what kind of brother would I be?"

Ludwig rolled his electrifying blue eyes but smiled anyway. Even though his brother had a habit of promoting himself for his good deeds, the Prussian was good at heart and was willing to help out. Those oceanic eyes shifted to the window, waiting for anything to happen, for anything to appear. He was waiting for that twisted man to appear out of the darkness and dare to threaten his family again. He _dared _Marcello to.

"…wig. Ludwig!" Gilbert's voice drifted into his thoughts.

"Hm?" Ludwig lifted his head to see Gilbert staring worriedly at him from the rearview mirror.

"You okay, bruder? You zoned out for a minute there."

"Ja, I'm okay. I was just… thinking," Ludwig replied, his eyes drifting down to his daughter's sleeping face and his hand gently held Feliciano's. They both looked so peaceful. That's the way things were supposed to be. They shouldn't have to be on the run from a madman.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing, forget about it. It's not important," Ludwig shook his head.

"It's about Marcello, isn't it?"

Ludwig was silent.

"Don't worry, Ludwig. Everything will turn out all right. This guy probably has no idea where you're going. The _polizei _got you all out of the country before he could even figure out what to do with himself," Gilbert grinned.

The blonde nodded, appreciating Gilbert's attempt at dispelling his fears. It didn't work but no one could ever really make him stop worrying. Even Feliciano had a hard time of doing so. Getting lost in his thoughts again, Ludwig had ended up falling asleep on the way to his childhood home.

Lovino was hesitant upon boarding the private plane that would take them to America. Was this really such a good idea? What if Antonio hated it over there? What if he was teased by the other kids at his new school because he wouldn't be able to speak English well? There were so many what ifs for the Italian to fret about and not nearly enough time to answer all of them to his liking.

* * *

A sleeping Antonio began slipping out of his arms again and Lovino adjusted the boy on his back. The ten-year-old was still quite small for his age. It was a miracle as to how the Spaniard would end up taller and stronger than he would someday.

"Lovino, hurry up! We've got to go! Marcello could already be in town!" Davide called over the roar of the plane starting up.

"Coming," Lovino muttered before stepping onto the plane towards his new home.

Antonio, however, was far away from this place. He wasn't in a nightmare but yet it wasn't one of his dreams in paradise. He was caught in between the two. The Meridian is what he called it—the place between light and dark. Like Earth was the midpoint between heaven and hell. Camille would sometimes be there to guide him but when he chose a side—or rather when a side chose him—she was powerless to do anything about it.

Of course, he had always drifted towards the light. That was where his happy memories rested in peace and to be surrounded by the everlasting light was almost like heaven. It was warm and comforting there and he had the ability to run about and do as he pleased, getting lost in a memory or two. There, he was in control of what happened. He called this place the Graveyard of Angels.

But more often than not, a sly hand would creep out and grab his ankle and pull him towards the dark side. He honestly didn't have a name for this place. It was too dark and horrible that he didn't have the impulse to even _think _about such a place.

This place—this hell—was beyond his control. Everything that happened here was entirely up to someone else. He didn't know who would want to make him suffer but he hated that person just like he hated Marcello. What was odd though was that almost the entire place was a cemetery and each tombstone had a number chiseled on it.

When he had first arrived here at the age of four, he didn't know what the numbers meant. Camille had told him they were his deepest and darkest memories. They were his fears. The headstones went on for as far as he could see. If he even so much as brushed one with a piece of his clothing he would be sent off into the memory that tombstone contained.

It would sometimes branch off into another memory and a specific one that liked to haunt him was Tombstone 6. This was the nightmare that Marcello had successfully killed his father and nearly killed him. But if he was careful enough not to touch them, he could wander farther than the norm.

At one point the numbers on the gravestones faded into names. There weren't so many of those. Maybe ten or less and some of them were unreadable. But two of them he always felt compelled to go visit. It was the graves of both a man and woman.

Emilio and Adelita Carriedo.

He didn't know who those two people were but he felt a small tingle in his heart and would grow sad. It was odd, really. He didn't know these people yet had remorse for them. If he was lucky enough, he would see them walking around.

Emilio had curly brown hair and tan skin with blue eyes like Sienna. He was tall and lean and overall was a good looking young man. Not to mention Antonio saw a bit of himself in those features. The woman, however, had light skin, reddish-brown hair with emerald eyes as bright as the gem itself. Antonio had almost compared her to an angel like Camille was.

When he first met them, they had told him they would always be watching over him, protecting him and guiding him with their undying love. Antonio thought these people to be his grandparents but his father spoke Italian and he was positive his grandparents did too.

These people were speaking Spanish.

* * *

"The house is dark, Camille. There's no point in being here," Marcello put his head on the steering wheel, bored and frustrated out of his mind. "Let's just go after them already!"

"_**What did I say?" **_Camille raised an eyebrow threateningly.

"To wait it out but he's obviously not home and you said so yourself: he's going to be thousands of miles away from us."

Camille's icy emerald eyes made the man shiver with a twinge of fear. He didn't think an angel was capable of such a glare. It frightened him. Was Camille really an angel? Was she something darker?

_She is, _the Voice murmured in the back of his mind, nothing but an annoying itch.

"Go away," he said aloud in a drawl.

Camille rolled her eyes in exasperation. That man had something seriously wrong with him.

"_**The cops that helped them will be back in a while. Go inside," **_Camille ordered and growled when Marcello didn't move. It looked like he didn't even hear her. She was getting irritated with all these internal conflicts he was having. _**"That means go now."**_

Exiting the car, Marcello strolled leisurely up the porch and rattled the doorknob. Locked, as expected. If Lovino was any kind of logical thinker, the lock would be changed so the old key he had to the house was of no use. He could easily pick the lock but he didn't need the authorities finding out that he was inside.

A quiet _click _could be heard from inside and the door drifted open to reveal a dark living room.

"_**Do I have to do everything myself?" **_Camille was standing in the middle of the room, lighting the house with her beautiful radiance.

"Sorry," Marcello removed his shoes and stepped inside.

Old memories came rushing back to him in a blur, all of them true and good. Antonio's laughs, Lovino's smile… he still held them close no matter how much he hated these feelings. That was the Voice's job: to make sure he remembered those painful things.

"_**We'll wait for them here. I'll tell you when they get closer. For now, get some rest."**_

Marcello nodded, going over to the couch. This was where he had first kissed Lovino… and Lovino had actually kissed back. He could say he missed those soft lips. But he wouldn't say it. The whispers stirred in his head again, the Voice being responsible for every single one of them.

Afraid to close his eyes, Marcello drifted off into a restless slumber. But he had faith that Camille would protect him from any harm.

Yes.

She would protect him.

She was his guardian angel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the wait, everyone! This chapter was done in a single day and I am dead tired. It may seem confusing and that's good. I want it to seem confusing in some parts. Everything will fall together in due time. Thank you for all those still supporting this story. I know I don't reply to reviews (I'm trying my best to find) but I really do cherish every single one of them. I had two projects due last week so my brain is fried. Again. And I'm having friend issues so most of my time is taken dealing with that and trying not to say something. It's hard. Plus, I think I'm getting sick. Again. Whoop-de-freaking-do.**

**Anywho, I won't bother you all with my problems.**

**Please keep up the support! It helps tremendously... /shot**

**Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Warnings: Language**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Dawn was breaking on the horizon and the birds chirped their merry songs. Davide and his partner pulled up to Lovino's former house, eyeing it warily. They had passed by here multiple times throughout the week and there was not even a single peep from Marcello. Nothing. Silence. Peace. There was something definitely wrong with this picture.

"I'm going to go inside," Michael, Davide's partner, said, his eyes never leaving the house.

"Maybe that's not such a good idea," Davide commented, running his hand through his shaggy brunette hair. "It's dangerous without anyone here to back us up."

"It's been too quiet here, Davide. There hasn't been one sighting of Marcello and we've got officers here patrolling every day, every hour on the hour," Michael was beyond frustrated. "There's nothing to go on!"

Davide mulled this over.

What kind of game could Marcello possibly be playing?

Surely, a game of chess.

Men of his logic played games of chess with real life pawns instead of porcelain pieces. Real blood was spilled and actual lives were lost. All were at the expense of the king—to keep him alive. If the king died then the game would be over. Check mate.

Of what he understood, on Lovino's side, Marcello must've viewed Lovino as queen and Antonio as king. But if either's life ended then the game would end because both would die either way. Ludwig, Feliciano and Sienna were the rooks, knights and bishops. Whether each one was categorized into the other was up to Lovino himself. He doubted that Lovino would do that to those he loved.

Marcello had put himself as king, that much was certain.

Who was queen?

There was definitely not one on his side.

That still left the knights, bishops, and rooks. Who would be categorized as what? It was only a matter of time before Marcello figured all that out. He would decide what pieces were worthy enough to stand beside him at his throne and those that were disposable.

In order to catch a criminal—or rather, a madman—you had to think like one.

Climbing out of the car, ignoring Davide's protests to stop, he trekked up the stairs to the house.

Davide clenched his fists, "He never listens to me! Why does he have to be so hard-headed all the time?"

He kicked the door open and followed closely behind Michael, hand on his gun. The latter already had his pistol in hand with it cocked and ready, finger brushing the trigger cautiously. Davide rattled the doorknob and found it to be locked as he suspected. He locked around. Lovino had to have a spare key somewhere…

Ah! Here! Underneath a loose board.

Davide grabbed the key and inserted it in the lock, turning it slowly. He didn't like the feeling he was getting. There was someone inside and their intentions weren't good. After a soft click, Davide and Michael pulled their guns out of their holsters, entering the house with quiet footsteps. The house was oddly dark despite it being in the middle of the day.

"Careful, Davide," Michael warned in a whisper.

Said man didn't respond as he shuffled through the house, scanning the area with cautious coffee eyes. Michael stayed right behind him, his gun ready. They continued to move around relatively quiet but as soon as Davide's foot crunched some broken glass on the floor, the light flickered on, revealing Marcello relaxing in a chair. The smirk darkened his face and his ocean eyes were an abyss.

His fingers were ghosting over a framed photo and his smirk faded into a deeply thoughtful expression.

"_**They were beautiful, you know. Both so young and so lively. It was a shame they had to leave in such a… horrible manner,"**_ Marcello turned the picture to where the two men could see it.

Michael's breath hitched and Davide's heart stopped.

A young woman with bright hazel eyes and sandy blonde hair was hugging who seemed to be her son tightly and smiling radiantly, bearing some resemblance to Michael. The boy was almost a carbon copy of Davide save for the blonde strands streaking his dark hair and his eyes were the same as his mother's.

Luciana and Matteo.

Davide's beloved wife and son.

"W-Where did you get that?" Davide choked on the lump in his throat.

"_**Did you know she begged for her life? Well, not necessarily her life but your son's life?"**_ Marcello chuckled, ignoring Davide's question but reveling in his fear. _**"She begged for us to not hurt him, to keep him alive and that we could take her instead. It was a tempting offer but seeing the light leave your son's eyes was way too amusing."**_

Michael already had Marcello at gunpoint before the latter finished his sentence.

"You son of a bitch…!" Michael growled, the gun trembling subtly.

Marcello continued, hardly fazed, _**"It truly was a masterpiece. I painted them both in pretty… red… blood. It was fantastic. You remember, don't you? Pictures were taken because of how… incredible it was."**_

Davide stood there, hardly breathing, heart thundering in his ears.

"_**Do you remember the agony? The absolute horror of finding your wife and son mutilated beyond recognition? I remember. I remember it all very clearly. I mean, I was the one who caused it,"**_ Marcello snickered.

"Shut up!" Michael took a dangerous step forward, glancing at his partner. "Davide, snap out of it! Don't just let this bastard talk about your family and my sister and nephew like this!"

The man showed no response, lost in his living nightmare.

_He threw the folder across the room, the horrendous pictures fluttering to the floor. He plopped back down in the chair and hid his face in his hands, shoulders shaking violently. The others in the room remained silent, allowing the distraught man to weep for those he lost._

"_Davide…" Michael reached out to place a comforting hand on the man's shoulder._

"_Don't touch me!" Davide smacked it away roughly. "Don't… touch me…!"_

_Michael stepped away, his emotions charging at one another head on, brawling with each other. Distraught and rage battled for who would win his heart and what actions he would take. He didn't want to cry. He refused to cry. He didn't… he wasn't… strong enough._

_He watched his brother-in-law mourn his loved ones, something he wished he could do. Michael had never been one to cry. His heart wasn't stone… just iced over from neglect. Yes, he could feel the moisture collecting in his eyes but the tears never fell no matter how bad he wanted them to._

"_Who did this…?" Michael asked to no one in particular and spoke even louder when he received no response. "Who did this!"_

"_We don't know," a young woman said, her voice quivering. "There were no fingerprints, no footprints—not even a strand of hair left behind. Whoever did this… has had it planned for years."_

_Michael stormed out then, intent on finding the one responsible for this._

"I'll kill you," Michael snarled.

"_**Really now?"**_ Marcello challenged. _**"I don't think you have the guts to."**_

"That was my little sister and nephew, you bastard! You took them from me! I loved them!" Michael raged, the tears burning his chocolate eyes.

"_**Now, now, Michael, let's be honest here,"**_ Marcello stood up, still cradling the picture. _**"We all know you're not capable of love. How could you be when you were deprived of it all your life? After being shoved from foster home to foster home, it's a wonder how that word is even a part of your vocabulary."**_

"Shut up."

"_**And even when you think you found your place in the world with the perfect family, finding out you had to share their love with a little sister angered you. You were disgusted by her. Admit it, you hated your sister," **_Marcello was juggling the photo and Davide eyed it carefully.

"No…"

"_**You hated her and you still do. It's just too much for you to bear that she, their biological daughter, was more cherished than you, the child that barged in on their happy little family."**_

"No…"

"**Say it. Say that you hate her. Say it!"**

"_Shut up!" _Michael pulled the trigger, narrowly missing Marcello's head.

"_**Maybe you do have some brass balls. I like that,"**_ the Italian-American had that devilish smirk on his face again and his eyes gleamed with excitement. _**"I could have some use for you."**_

"Michael, calm down. You have to calm down. He's just trying to get in your head," Davide was recovering from his own flashback.

How did this man do it? How was he able to make them crumble like a sack of bricks?

"_He's a manipulator. He gets inside your head and does whatever the hell he wants you to," _Lovino had once said. _"Don't make the same mistake I did. You'll regret it."_

The blonde Italian was frazzled now, shaken by fear and truth—no, lies. Lies! It was all lies! Marcello was lying! He… he had to believe that. He couldn't let that slip away. He wouldn't forgive himself if he did. He didn't want to fall into that dark place again. That dark and terribly lonely place…

Michael tried catching his breath and still his erratic heartbeat.

Breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Repeat.

Good.

Repeat.

Even better.

"_**Gentlemen, face it,"**_ Marcello had set the picture down finally. _**"You won't win this battle."**_

"What makes you say that?" Davide had calmed himself considerably.

"_**You see, I even have God on my side,"**_ the lights flickered and Marcello was gone.

"Where the hell did he go?" Michael's head swiveled in all directions. "Marcello! Get your ass back out here! Show yourself, you coward!"

"Michael, no hasty moves," Davide advised. "He's playing games with us. Think chess. We're just the pawns. At least I am."

"Chess?" Michael wanted to scoff. "Why chess?"

"Guys like him think in terms of chess. Surely you've played it."

"What the hell are you getting at, Davide?" Michael demanded.

"The move you make decides whether its life or death for you. You have to have more than one functioning brain cell to play—maybe that's why you don't play it often," Davide quipped.

"Shut it, Moretti!" the insulted man snapped.

"_**You know, boys,"**_ Marcello suddenly appeared on the stairs, _**"seeing you argue like this is kind of amusing—kind of. I really have need for only one of you so, sorry to say, the other has to die. Make it fast or I'll have to decide for myself."**_

Both men glanced at each other before aiming their guns at Marcello and firing. The targeted man disappeared just before the bullets hit.

"Damn it!" Michael cursed, spinning on his heel to face Davide. "He's really getting on my last nerve! How the hell is he doing this? I know he's no damn magician!"

"What makes you think I have the answers?" Davide retorted. "Focus!"

"_**You're both so indecisive, it looks like. I'll make the decision. Someone better die before I send all of Cuore sky high,"**_ Marcello was behind them now, leaning against the wall casually.

Davide's face paled, "You wouldn't."

"_**I would,"**_ Marcello held an odd device in his hand, sneering. _**"Boom."**_

The room was deathly silent.

"_**You've got 10 seconds,"**_ the Italian-American warned.

"Shit," Michael murmured.

"Go Michael."

"_**10…"**_

Said man reeled to his partner, raising an eyebrow questioningly, "What did you say?"

"You heard me," Davide said. "Go—don't let him catch you."

"_**9… 8… 7…"**_

"I'm not leaving you!" Michael protested, feeling the dreaded pain invade his heart again. "I won't leave you! You're all I've got left!"

Davide smiled feignedly, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'm sure it won't hurt… much."

"_**6… 5… 4…"**_

"No!" Michael shook his head.

"_**It's been decided. Thank you for joining us, Davide. You will be sorely missed,"**_ Marcello held Davide at gun point and pushed the button on the device.

To be pushed out of the house by some unknown force left Michael rolling on the asphalt to catch his breath while Lovino's house exploded into flame, scattering shards of glass and chunks of wood everywhere. Those strolling past screamed, calling for help and sheltering themselves away from the destruction. Michael coughed from inhaling the smoke as stars danced across his vision.

"_**Silly little one,"**_ a woman was in front of him, amusement in her voice. _**"You haven't learned to stay out of trouble even at 24 years of age."**_

"…Mom?" he opened his bleary eyes further to reveal his deceased mother looking as beautiful as ever.

"_**Hello Michael,"**_ she smiled sweetly.

"I—I thought that—"

"_**Shh,"**_ she placed her cold fingers to his lips which hushed the man effectively. _**"I've been watching you, my son and all the good you're doing. But there's something else I need you to do for me."**_

"Anything…" Michael drawled, unconsciousness hovering over him like a ghost.

"_**Help Marcello. He's a good man with a noble cause. He's ridding the world of two very dangerous people and I need you to help him succeed in his mission. Can you do that for me, son? It would make me very happy," **_her voice was the sweetest honey and had the calmness of a brook.

"Yes… yes I can do that," Michael nodded.

"_**Thank you. You have made me very proud. I love you."**_

"I love you, too," Michael at last faded away into the shadows.

Camille smirked.

Humans were so gullible.

* * *

"Toni, can you go get me the bread from the next aisle?" Lovino asked in English, earning a confused look from his son. But he waited patiently for the request to process.

"Bread?" Antonio was somewhat familiar with the word, his accent hindering the pronunciation a bit.

"Yes," Lovino nodded.

Bread… it did sound familiar. He just couldn't get a picture of it. His progression in his lessons in English was slow moving but he was getting there. At this point he could pick out certain words and put pictures to them inside his head. He could at least do that much and possibly more if he really listened and tried to understand what was being said.

Of course, _speaking _the language was an entirely different story.

He was supposed to start school that would have other American kids who spoke only English and would make fun of him if he didn't know how. Antonio was determined to learn it. He just didn't know why it had to be so difficult for him to.

Obeying his father's request, Antonio went one aisle over and scanned the varieties on the shelves. Here he became puzzled. Which one was he supposed to get? He had become so entranced in what he was doing he ended up bumping into someone, murmuring a quick apology in Italian.

The man in front of him tilted his head to the side a bit, his hair favoring the right side. He clearly didn't comprehend what Antonio said.

"I'm s-sorry," Antonio had to remember that he wasn't in Italy anymore and grew rather sad.

"Don't worry about it, little man!" the stranger grinned brightly, his glasses reflecting the carefree attitude in his ocean eyes. "Did you need help?"

"Um," Antonio's feet shuffled quietly. "I-I need… bread."

He hoped the phrase made sense and didn't come out sounding like absolute nonsense.

"Bread? Which kind?"

Antonio shrugged vaguely.

"Okay…" the man browsed among the choices, just as bemused as Antonio was. "I'll pick one and you can tell me which one looks good, all right?"

Antonio nodded slowly after grasping the concept.

"Wait a minute, I think I've seen you somewhere before. What's your name, kid?" the stranger asked.

"Antonio Vargas," the boy responded quickly, proud that he was able to understand so quickly.

"No way!" the blonde man's eyes widened in amazement. "Little Toni? You've gotten so big! You're almost as tall as me now!"

Now Antonio was really confused. Who was this man?

"It's me, Alfred!" the American couldn't stop grinning.

Alfred.

Alfred…

The name sounded familiar. But the goofy, lanky teenager he had visualized in his head was nothing like the young man he saw before him. However, he could see the similarity between the two.

"Toni, did you—oh. Who is this?" Lovino came around the corner, approaching Alfred cautiously.

"It's Alfred, Papa," the ten-year-old moved towards his dad.

"Alfred Jones?" Lovino couldn't help but be surprised. "You've… changed."

"You and my dad say the same thing," Alfred laughed. "So what're you doing in America? Did you come here on vacation or something?"

"Uh, well, no. We just recently moved here," Lovino replied.

"Really? Awesome! How do you like it here?"

"It's taking some getting used to but we'll get through it," Lovino had placed his hand on Antonio's head of thick curls.

"It's great here, don't worry," Alfred said.

Antonio somehow doubted that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Gah, short chapter is short. I apologize. I just absolutely had to end it there /dodges flying tomatoes. On a happier note, I would like to give a big shout out to my friend turtle001! You helped this story progress. Thank you so much! Hopefully you'll all enjoy this chapter. I have more curve balls to throw at you guys so be ready!**

**Happy reading!**

**Please review! Grazie~!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Warnings: Language, violence**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"_I don't know what to do, Camille," Antonio sighed, sitting cross-legged in The Meridian which was a lovely patch of grass this time. "It's so hard to live here. I didn't want to move to America. I didn't want to learn English. I didn't want to leave my friends and family."_

"_I know it's hard, Toni, but it'll get better in time. Don't worry," Camille smiled. "You'll catch onto things quicker than you think. You're a smart boy."_

"_B-But… I wanna go home—to Italy with my papa and be with Sienna and Uncle Feliciano and Uncle Ludwig. It's not the same without them," Antonio sniffled, rubbing his nose. He picked absently at the blades of green, letting them fade away into nothing._

"_I know you do, Toni. But believe me, it'll get better. Your father did this with you solely in mind. He wants to protect you and it's not safe in Italy. Marcello has escaped and he's coming after the both of you," Camille tried to reason with the boy. He was as hard-headed as his father sometimes._

"_But couldn't we have moved to some other part of Italy? Somewhere where he couldn't catch us? I wouldn't have minded that at all…" Antonio stopped plucking at the grass and gazed at Camille with desperate emerald eyes._

"_Antonio," Camille seated herself in front of the boy, "it wouldn't have mattered. He would've found you regardless of what you did. And he would've killed you and your dad—just like in your dreams."_

_It was the harsh truth but Antonio needed to hear it. How else was he supposed to come to terms with the sudden changes occurring? Antonio lowered his head to stare at the ground but Camille lifted his chin gently and offered an encouraging smile and he returned it hesitantly._

"_Have faith, Toni. That's all I'm asking of you. Have faith. Can you do that for me?"_

"_Sí… I can."_

_Changing the topic, Camille continued, "So how are your English lessons coming along?"_

"_It's a very… confusing language," Antonio couldn't find the right words to describe what he was going through. "I can understand it a little but I can't really speak it without sounding funny."_

_The angel giggled, her voice like wind chimes, "It does take some getting used to."_

"_You know English?" Antonio raised an eyebrow in curiosity._

"_Sure do!" Camille gave a thumbs-up. "I was born in America, after all. I was taken to Italy after our parents were killed and had to learn Italian just as fast as you have to learn English."_

"_Was it hard?"_

"_I would be lying if I said it wasn't," she shrugged. "But my situation was life or death. Yours is school related—no big deal."_

"_I want to fit in on the first day, Camille. I don't want to be some kind of freak," Antonio huffed. "I actually want to be liked on my first day of school, not made fun of."_

"_You won't be, Toni. How about this? I'll help you with your English, too. It'll go much smoother if I join in with your dad and you can catch on faster," the girl proposed and Antonio looked genuinely interested._

"_You'd really do that for me and Papa?"_

"_Of course! I'm looking after you two knuckleheads so I need to help in every way I can, right?" she winked at the bright eyed boy._

"_Thank you, Camille!" he hugged the angel tightly._

_Hugging the boy back, Camille ran her lithe fingers through his thick curls, "You're such a great kid, Antonio. Your dad knows this and I know this. I just wish you could see it too."_

_Antonio pulled back to face the girl but shortly after a bright light burst behind him, spreading a familiar warmth throughout his body. The Graveyard of Angels was calling to him. It really was such a wonderful place. He was at peace there. He turned back to face Camille and she was smiling softly._

"_Go on, Toni. You may not get this chance again."_

_The boy stood abruptly, edging towards the light slowly, afraid of leaving Camille in The Meridian all alone. He hoped she would be okay. She was an angel. She wasn't going anywhere. With those thoughts settled, Antonio continued into the light, dreaming of picking tomatoes with his dad and having fun._

_Camille watched the boy disappear into the light, tears coming to her eyes. She hadn't a clue as to why she was crying. She just felt sad yet happy. She couldn't describe her feelings otherwise. As Antonio continued on, she mouthed these words when her tears slipped down her rosy cheeks:_

"_And all these words you were meant to say;_

_Held in silence day after day;_

_Words of kindness that our poor hearts crave;_

_Please, don't keep them hidden away."_

_The angel sighed and wiped away the excess tears. She didn't like this feeling. It was wrong—so wrong. The Meridian was supposed to be a neutral place, neither giving off a positive nor negative energy. There was nothing positive about this light she was seeing. There was something far darker taking place here. And she felt powerless to do anything about it._

* * *

"So Michael," Marcello paced around the young man, smiling devilishly. "You've decided to join our ranks. How wonderful! I'm so happy that you've made this choice."

"Mother says you've a great purpose for this world. I want to be part of it. This rotten world is what killed my mother and turned my father into a criminal. I want… to matter—to be important," Michael clenched his fists, his chocolate eyes still holding unconsciousness's haze.

"And you will be important. You are a crucial part to my plan—God's plan. Without you, I wouldn't be able to continue. His plan requires that you kill all emotional ties right now and become a tool for me. Are you willing to do that?" Marcello stopped to face Michael.

Said man remained indifferent, "What difference does it make? I haven't mattered in my entire life. There's nothing going for me but this one opportunity to change that. I'm willing to do anything to succeed."

"Excellent. Now, about your sister and nephew… I'm truly sorry about their demise. It was tragic albeit necessary. However, when you are finished here, I promise that you will see them again," Marcello placed his hand on the Italian's shoulder.

Michael's eyes brightened considerably, "W-What?"

Marcello smiled. "You heard me. Follow me and I can lead you into heaven where they are waiting for you. I'll be going there myself to meet my sister and parents. We'll be going together."

And for the first time in a long time, Michael actually saw hope in his future.

Camille watched with crimson eyes, twirling a strand of her dark hair in her fingers as she floated aimlessly above the duo. It was hard to believe how susceptible the human race was. They would turn to anyone—or any_thing—_to get what they want. Such selfish, overbearingly pathetic creatures they were. And so fragile, too. What was she thinking making a contract with one? She was growing impatient. She wanted to taste their tainted souls and watch their lives fade from their eyes.

Three souls darkened by the world's negativity.

One soul still pure as fresh snow—that one would taste absolutely delectable.

It had better be worth it.

"You're the only one alive they trust since, well, Camille blew up the other one," Marcello glanced up at the girl hovering above and the mentioned girl rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"They're not complete idiots though. I'm not so sure if they'll fall for this," Michael was hesitant.

"Trust me. With the way things are going right now, they'll believe you."

* * *

His head was pounding.

His body ached.

He felt unbearably heavy.

Where was he…?

He wiggled his hands and found that he couldn't move them much. They were tied by something. Rope? Chains? He didn't know. He wiggled his legs. He couldn't move them either. They were bound as well. He opened his eyes and saw nothing—darkness. He was blindfolded.

He tried remembering what happened… he was at home with his family, ate dinner and had gone to bed as normal. Then nothing. A warm drop trickled down the back of his neck. Blood. He had been hit in the back of the head. That's probably why he could remember not a single thing. He struggled to grasp onto the memories he held so dear. He couldn't lose them again. He had gone through that pain once and once was enough.

"Ludwig…" he muttered. "Ludwig where are you?"

He hoped this was all some sort of sick and twisted game.

But his gut told him it wasn't.

* * *

"You're awake. Good," a voice chuckled. "Let the show begin."

"All right, Toni. Time for bed," Lovino called into the living room where his son currently resided.

"Aww, Papa! I'm not sleepy!" Antonio whined in Italian.

Lovino raised an eyebrow and Antonio pouted. He never got to stay up late. It wasn't fair. He fought back a yawn as he turned off the television and gave Lovino a hug.

"Good night, Papa."

"Good night, Toni. I'll see you in the morning. We're going to buy your school supplies tomorrow so I need you bright eyed and bushy tailed," Lovino said.

"My tail isn't bushy until nine!" Antonio stuck his tongue out playfully.

"I suggest you change that," Lovino mussed the boy's unkempt hair.

Antonio laughed and headed upstairs to his room for the night. Lovino then proceeded to clean up the small mess around the house, putting away some of the books Antonio was attempting to read and washing the dishes. His phone rang suddenly, causing the man to jump slightly.

"Hello?" he pressed it to his ear.

"_Hello Lovi~"_

Lovino's blood turned to ice. That voice. That sickening, despicable voice. It belong to one person and one person only.

"Marcello."

"_You haven't forgotten me. You must've cared about me more than you let on, love."_

"Don't call me that, you son of a bitch," Lovino snarled.

"_Such volatile language from such a lovely young man; it doesn't suit you in the least, my love. I've missed you and Antonio terribly. Won't you come and visit me?"_

"What kind of fucking request is that? You're out of your fucking mind if you think I'm going to see you! After what you did to my son? Get a fucking life!"

Why in the hell was he talking to Marcello like this? He could be digging their already knee-deep graves even further. No. Marcello was still in Italy and he was here in America. They were thousands of miles apart. And out of the fifty states, the chances of them being found were slim.

"_Now I'm not asking you. I'm telling you to come to Germany. Oh and bring your son with you."_

"Fuck you."

"_That's too bad. And I had such a wonderful surprise for you, too. I was hoping you'd be willing to make a trade with me, Lovi."_

"What the hell are you talking about? What trade?" Lovino demanded.

"_Would the life of your brother suffice?"_

And there, suddenly appearing on the computer screen, was his younger brother—bound by ropes and tape and whimpering helplessly.


	7. Chapter 7

**PFFT. This chapter was oddly... fun to write. Call me a sadistic bastard if you will. I'll admit it, I kinda am. Anyway, this one is a little longer than the last chapter and I have a feeling this story will be shorter than Midnight Dancers. Meh, who can tell? We'll see. Oh and I picked the state that Lovino and Antonio live in because, well, I know how it works and the state schooling, testing, and yadda yadda yadda. I'm too lazy to do research on how other states are /dodges tomatoes. Sorry Romano!**

**Thanks again for all the support! I really and truly appreciate it! And I'm finished with testing so I should be able to update quicker. I should. I have one final exam to take and that's it so I shouldn't be terribly busy. Oh and I'm working this summer, too. Dang it.**

**Happy reading!**

**Please review~**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except plot.**

**Warnings: Language, violence... you get the idea.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

"Everyone, we have a new student joining us this year," the teacher said with a sweet smile. "His name is Antonio Vargas and he came here all the way from Italy. Now we all remember how scary our first day of school was so I want you all to be nice to Antonio and make him feel welcome."

"Yes, Mrs. Murdock," the class replied in staggered unison.

"Antonio, you can take any one of the empty seats and we'll get started on the lesson once you get situated, all right?" Mrs. Murdock smiled down at the boy.

"Okay," Antonio nodded, hesitantly moving towards a random desk.

"Hi, I'm Violet," the blonde haired and blue eyed girl next to him grinned.

"H-Hi," Antonio felt his cheeks grow warm.

"It's great to have you here. I just recently moved here, too, and I don't have many friends," she explained happily. "I'm from Michigan—that's way up north! You know where that is, right?"

The foreign fourth grader remembered vaguely what the map of the United States looked like but he couldn't get a picture of where Michigan was. Nonetheless, Antonio did the math in his head. They were in Texas so that was a fair distance to travel, he assumed.

"But you're from Italy so my road trip is nothing compared to yours! That's another continent entirely!" Violet giggled. "How do you like it here in America?"

Antonio tried to find the right words and pronounce them correctly despite his accent, "Um, it is very different from Italy. It takes some getting used to."

"I don't blame you," she replied. "I can only imagine what it's like to leave your friends. Do you have any other family members there?"

"Just my dad and I moved here. My uncles and cousin live in Germany."

Antonio was proud of himself. This was going much smoother than he thought it out to be. His English lessons with his dad and Camille had paid off—Alfred helped too when he could. He still had a long way to go, however. He had much difficulty pronouncing certain words correctly and he hoped he wouldn't have to use those words anytime soon.

"That's so cool!" Violet exclaimed. "I've got family in England and we get to see them once a year on the holidays—sometimes twice if we're lucky!"

England.

Arthur lives in England and Alfred did, too. He had never been to that country but he heard it was very nice from all the stories Alfred had told him and Arthur ended up correcting his son on.

"Violet, dear, would you get Antonio an extra workbook from the shelf please?" Mrs. Murdock interrupted the duo's conversation.

The girl nodded and scooted out of her seat to retrieve the requested item and placed it on Antonio's desk, turning it to the corresponding page that was being written on the chalkboard.

"If there is something you don't understand, all you need to do is ask me or Mrs. Murdock. We'll be more than happy to help you," Violet had pulled out her own math workbook. "I am her Number One helper after all."

"_Grazie," _Antonio had made a minor slip up and blushed from embarrassment when Violet gave him a bemused look. "I mean, uh, thank you."

Great! Now this girl was going to make fun of him! So much for trying to fit in and make friends on the first day! He was doing so well, too! All of his time spent learning such a complicated language were going down the drain!

"What does that mean? The word you said," her head tilted to the side innocently. She didn't _seem _angry.

"It means 'thank you' in Italian," Antonio replied, still greatly mortified.

"Neat-o! I've always wanted to learn another language! _Grazie…" _she tried enunciated the word as Antonio did. "How do you say 'you're welcome' in Italian?"

"_Prego."_

"Oh. Well… _prego," _Violet smiled.

* * *

Ludwig paced… and paced… and paced. He paced by the phone which remained silent. He was growing restless—_too_ restless. There had been no reports, no witnesses, no evidence… nothing! He hadn't slept peacefully for three days and Sienna hadn't been going to school. She absolutely refused to. There were dark circles under Ludwig's eyes and he had paled considerably.

"Ludwig, there's no use," Gilbert sighed. "You're going to make yourself sick worrying like this."

Too late for a warning now.

"I don't understand," Ludwig's mind was reeling, something abnormal for him since he was usually the rational of the two. "Why hasn't there been anything to go on? It's been three days. I can't keep waiting like this!"

"That's because there _is nothing _to go on, Ludwig," Gilbert stood up from his seat on the couch. "Without any evidence or witnesses, the police can't make a move! I know it's hard to just sit here but what else can we do? As a former police officer, you should know what it's like to not have any leads. The police are just as frustrated as we are."

For once, Gilbert made sense. His logic was perfect. But in Ludwig's sleep deprived mind, it was nonsense—blasphemy, even. He was wrong. He was so wrong! There had to be some sign of struggle. His lover had been kidnapped. Feliciano wouldn't go quietly. He'd kick, scream, and yell— anything to get free. _Someone _had to have heard him. It killed the German to think that those cries fell on deaf ears.

"I can't lose him again!" Ludwig ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Not again… we can't. We lost him once; I won't allow a second time. Sienna doesn't deserve to go through that again."

"I know _bruder. _I know."

They stood in silence for a bit before Gilbert spoke again.

"…you should try and get some sleep."

"Sleep?" Ludwig scoffed. "Wish I could."

Sienna sat at the top of the stairs, watching everything unfold—watching her usually strong and sturdy father topple over like an old, forgotten tree. She had always counted on her father to be composed even if he was anything but on the inside. Seeing him distraught was a rare sight and it caused great fear to bubble up inside of the girl.

She suddenly grew cold and wrapped herself in the large pink and yellow quilt Arthur had sewn for her so many years ago. It was her only sanctuary at this point. It reminded her of Feliciano, no less. It smelled of him. She would cuddle up to him and her dad on nights that she felt scared or lonely.

Gilbird chirped sullenly next to her, seeming to detect her sorrow. Sienna pet the little yellow chick with a small smile and it leaned into her touch lovingly.

"I want Mom to come home, Gilbird. It's quiet without him here," she sighed. "I hope he's okay. Do you think we'll find him?"

The fluffy animal chirped again and she scooped it up gently into her hands before retreating back to her room, figuring her father needed some space to himself. She settled themselves on the bed and withdrew into the quilt that swallowed her when she was younger.

Gilbird hopped onto her shoulder and nuzzled itself against her cheek, tweeting softly.

"Thanks for trying to comfort me, little guy," Sienna smiled and kissed its head. "You know what, Gilbird? We're going to do our own investigation. We're going to look for Mom all by ourselves and find him all on our own. What do you think of that?"

The chick peeped merrily in agreement.

"Great!" Sienna clapped her hands lightly. "We'll wake up early tomorrow morning and get started!"

Gilbird jumped off her shoulder so she could lay down and nestled up to her as she buried herself in the covers. Sienna smiled in the darkness.

_Don't worry, Mom. We're going to rescue you._

* * *

He lifted his head from the uncomfortable position in which he blacked out. It strained as it returned to its normal position and he grunted. Nothing had changed as far as he knew. He was still seeing total darkness and his wrists burned from where he had been struggling to free himself. The blood from the open wounds had stopped hours ago and was now caked dry on his hands.

Another thought then occurred to him.

He was starving and thirsty.

He hadn't had food in who knows how many days and hadn't had anything to drink. He licked his chapped lips as his stomach snarled in demand for food. He had grown weak due to these important factors. He didn't want to yell for help. What difference would it make? It wouldn't make one. And it wasn't like he _could _yell for help. He'd be surprised if he could even speak.

He tried to calculate the number of hours he thought he'd been here. It had to be at least three days. Three days of solitude save for the rats scurrying across the floor in search of food or a sparrow that would fly in and out of a broken window. He could feel the warm sunshine from that broken window and he bathed in it. He attempted to picture sunshine to cast away the darkness that had been his world for 72 hours.

It abruptly hit him. The dark presence…the frigid air… the fear… it bombarded him like a sledgehammer. It pounded into his body, leaving its imprint on his soul. He struggled to maintain his heartbeat and breathing rate. Inhale… exhale… inhale… exhale… that's it. Keep it up. Don't let it faze you. Be strong. Carry on. Do it for Ludwig and Sienna. Go home to them. They need you to stay alive. Don't give up.

As Feliciano unsuccessfully tried to steady himself, his breath came out in short puffs of air as the room became colder. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as Camille touched him with her frozen fingers. She circled around the Italian slowly, taking in every aspect of him.

"Who's there?" Feliciano croaked.

"No one of importance," Camille's voice was a sultry growl.

Feliciano trembled. He didn't need to see the person to see the evil eyes that gazed upon him with contempt. Though he recognized the voice as a young girl's, he imagined something far darker than just an innocent child. He shuddered violently as her fingers brushed the sides of his face, seeming to be reaching so she could untie the blindfold but she scraped her nails along his cheeks, drawing blood immediately.

He didn't dare cry or even let out the smallest snivel. He breathed erratically, the dread eating away at him. He could've sworn the room was dropping in temperature every second. The girl's finger intercepted the warm blood's path and she tasted the single drop.

"Hmm," she hummed in thought. "You're as innocent as a newborn lamb. How ideal. Your soul will be satisfying to a certain degree."

"Don't touch him, Camille," a new voice entered the room. "You're making a bad impression on our guest."

"Why not? I'm starving!" the girl, now known as Camille, whined.

"We had a deal. Four souls unless I say otherwise. And those souls are mine, Michael, Lovino and Antonio. He is not one of them," Marcello replied.

Feliciano stiffened completely. Souls? They were taking Lovino and Antonio's souls away? Marcello was even crazier than he thought!

Camille crossed her arms challengingly.

"Do you want to break the contract?" Marcello raised an eyebrow.

"You're no fun," she huffed and floated into the air out of Marcello's line of sight.

"Damn kid," he sighed and made his way to Feliciano. "Sorry about that. My sister can be a bit impulsive. She didn't hurt you, did she?" he added a dark chuckle afterwards once seeing the burning scratches on his face.

Feliciano remained impassive and bit his lip.

"Open your mouth," Marcello ordered gruffly. "I have some water for you. Can't have you dying of dehydration, now can we? You'll be of no use to me then."

Feliciano licked his dry lips again. Just the mere mention of the word "water" almost made him fall to his knees in despair (not that he could). He wanted it. He _needed _it. But he hesitated. What if it wasn't really water? What if it was some kind of drug or toxin? He swallowed dryly and thickly. Even though his body screamed for it, he didn't want to drink it. Hesitation was becoming dangerously close to being thrown out the window at this rate.

"You can trust me."

"Trust you? Why I earth would I trust you?" Feliciano rasped, growling almost.

"Because I am your only chance of survival," was the menacing reply. "So I suggest you get your attitude in check, Feliciano, lest your daughter suffer the consequences."

"Don't you even think about touching my family!" Feliciano hissed. He didn't know where this sudden streak of courage was coming from. It was probably the malnourishment talking.

"Why do you even care about them? They obviously don't care about you or they would've rescued you by now. Think about it. It's been three days already."

"No—you're wrong. They're coming for me," Feliciano shook his head furiously and he groaned at the headache it gave him.

"Don't kid yourself. You'll see in due time. I'll make you see that you have nothing left going for you," Marcello said. "I've already sent out a distress signal to your sweet and caring older brother. Has he shown up yet? No. It's because he doesn't care about you. He loves his son—who by the way isn't even really his son—more than you, his own flesh and blood."

"Liar," Feliciano whispered, glaring at the area where he heard the man's voice from.

If looks could kill, Marcello's head would've exploded about ten times at this point.

"Some lessons have to be learned the hard way, I suppose," Marcello sighed. "The demons of this world will be revealed to you in due time."

Feliciano spit on the ground near Marcello's feet, guaranteeing himself a solid blow to the face as Marcello walked away. The Italian-American glanced up at the girl hovering just feet above him.

"Get down here, Camille."

She floated down as a feather would, stopping at eye level with the human. "You called?"

"I have a job for you that I think you're going to love."

Camille's eyes brightened, "Ooh, what is it?"

"No food for him—only water. We'll see how long this holds up. Keep him alive. Keep talking to him. Make him go crazy. Remember, no food. To weaken the mind, you must first weaken the body."

"As you wish," Camille giggled and she disappeared.

"Michael," Marcello called.

"Yes?" the man was at his side instantly.

"I want Lovino here within the week. Do what you have to do."

"Of course. Consider it done," Michael nodded and exited.

"Oh before you go, could you do one more thing for me?"

"What is it?" Michael stopped mid-step.

"Get me my knife and the salt. Bring the lemon juice, too. It's going to be a long night for our dear Feliciano."

* * *

Lovino waited by the computer impatiently. The screen had gone black thirty minutes after he first saw Feliciano and there hadn't been a single twitch since. He drummed his fingers on the computer desk, he paced—he did anything and everything to keep him somewhat sane. He could only imagine what Ludwig and Sienna were doing. Sleeping? He doubted it. How would they be able to even think of sleep while Feliciano was out in the middle of nowhere in the hands of some psychotic criminal?

_Your brother's life is hanging in the balance. I suggest you get over here with your son. If you don't, well… you know. It'll be one hell of a party._

The green eyed Italian pinched the bridge of his nose. It was a double-edged sword. He wanted to save his brother but he had to protect his son, too. He couldn't go save Feliciano without putting Antonio at great risk. And he couldn't stay in America with Antonio and keep his brother alive.

He had to make a decision and quick.

He glanced at the clock. It was about time to pick up Antonio from school. Gazing back at the screen for a few more minutes, Lovino left his house just in time for it to come to life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Oh... my... gosh. Late update is late. I am so sorry for that. I hope you all can forgive me. I've been busy with work and I'm not feeling too well. I can't seem to keep anything I eat down. It's awful. Anyway, I won't annoy you with a long Author's Note. I hope you enjoy!**

**Happy reading~**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Sienna moved quietly about the house, cringing when she would bump into a piece of furniture or when a floorboard would creak. Her year old German Shepherd, Axis, followed behind her noiselessly. Sienna raided the kitchen, filling her backpack with enough food and water to last the both of them for a few days. Gilbird rested upon her shoulder, watching silently. Sienna zipped up her bag and slung it on her shoulder while mindful of the small animal perched there.

"I think we're all set," Sienna whispered. "Let's go before Dad or Uncle Gilbert wakes up."

Pulling out the pen and paper she stuffed into her pocket, Sienna wrote quickly and efficiently before slipping out the door, leaving behind the note she penned. Outside, Sienna took a deep breath of the fresh morning air as the sun was about to make an appearance to the sleeping world.

"We can do this, guys. Together, we'll find Mom in no time. We've waited three days for this opportunity. Are you ready, Axis and Gilbird? It'll be a long trip. Think we can make it?"

Axis barked and Gilbird chirped in agreement.

"I think so, too. Nothing can stop us if we put our minds to it! Let's go!" Sienna started off at a light jog with Gilbird perched on her shoulder and Axis trotting beside her.

Gleaming red eyes watched her with contempt and amusement, "Such a horrible little girl, running away from home like this. She'll do just fine for what we have in store for them."

* * *

Antonio sat on the playground bench with Violet during recess, chatting happily with his fellow classmate. He had learned so much about the young girl in just a mere few days. She had both a mom and dad and an older brother along with a younger sister. When she had asked about him, Antonio told her that he had a dad and no mom. She, of course, had questioned why and he told her that he didn't know why happened to his mom.

"It has just been me and my dad all my life. I don't have any brothers or sisters," Antonio had said.

"It must be nice," Violet commented and explained how she had to share everything with her little sister. "It gets to be annoying sometimes. I wonder what it would be like to be an only child."

"It is not everything you think it is. It gets lonely sometimes when Papa is busy with his work. I would like to have a little brother or sister to keep me company."

"You can have mine," Violet joked and giggled when she noticed that Antonio blinked in confusion. "It was a joke, Antonio. My mom and dad would kill me if they found out I gave away my younger sister!"

"Oh, I see!" Antonio's eyes lit with the dawn of comprehension.

Violet laughed, "You're so silly, Toni. I'm glad I'm your friend."

"Friend?" the word came out as an incredulous whisper.

"Yeah," the blonde girl nodded. "We are friends, aren't we?"

"Of course we are!" Antonio nodded vigorously. He was in no position to pass up friends.

Violet tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and her blue eyes sparkled like the ocean, "I have a feeling we'll be friends for a long time, Toni. You're super nice. You're not like all the other boys here who like to pick on the new kids."

Antonio gulped. He was a new kid.

"Don't worry, though. I'm sure they'll leave you alone since you're with me. They said any friend of mine is a friend of theirs so you're safe," Violet's smile wasn't as reassuring as it was meant to be—not to Antonio at least. However, her eyes remained bright.

"Don't worry," she placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'm here to take care of you."

Antonio gave a weak nod.

"Well, well, look what we have here," another voice entered their conversation.

Antonio studied the boy staring him down and became immediately intimidated by the sheer height of him. There was no way that he was in the fourth grade! The one confronting him had blonde hair (which was oddly similar to Violet's) and piercing hazel eyes that bore deep into his own emerald ones. Antonio didn't dare to break eye contact though.

"_You don't ever throw the first punch," _his father had once said to him. _"But you be sure that you throw the last one."_

_Stand your ground, _Antonio thought. _Don't be intimidated. Just stay calm. Violet said they wouldn't hurt you. And you trust Violet._

This self-assurance was helping none whatsoever. This guy was huge compared to him. And he was fairly certain that said boy would beat him to a pulp if he so much as twitched. The two others flanking the blonde nearly looked identical as well—despite one being a girl and the other a boy. Both had flaming red hair and dark coffee eyes that were condescending.

"What do you want, Caleb? Can't you see I'm in the middle of a conversation?" Violet scowled.

"What do you think you're doing?" the one now known as Caleb crossed his arms in an authoritative stance. Violet was unfazed however.

"What do you mean? I'm having a conversation with Antonio. You got a problem with that?" Violet was now standing with her hands on her hips to match Caleb's demeanor.

"I don't want you talking to him," Caleb eyes narrowed. "He's nobody. And people like us don't talk to trash like that. We're better than that. These are the people that serve us, not the other way around. I doubt he's even a citizen of this country."

"How can you say that?" Violet demanded, her eyes like a raging ocean. "How _dare _you say that? Antonio is a nice person if you ever wanted to get to know him! He's nothing like you and your little flunkies!"

"We're looking out of you, Vi," the red-headed girl stated. "I'm your best friend. We're supposed to do that remember?"

"Yeah? Well best friends aren't supposed to keep each other from talking to other people either."

Antonio tried to keep up with the pace of the conversation but was failing miserably.

"I, um… I think I'll just go," Antonio scooted off the bench.

"Yeah. You'd better and don't speak to my sister again. If I find out you are, then you're in for a world of pain, do you understand me?" Caleb growled, grabbing Antonio by the collar of his shirt.

"Let him go!" Violet charged at her brother but was stop by the redheaded boy who grabbed her arm.

Antonio merely glared, one that was akin to his father's.

"I'm speaking to you, filth!" Caleb spat.

"I hear you," Antonio hissed through clenched teeth.

"Damn kid!" Caleb landed a solid blow to Antonio's jaw, sending the boy skidding across the ground. "You'll do well to stay away. That hit was just a warning. Next time I might not be so merciful."

The kids that had gathered to watch the fiasco cheered Caleb on and jeered at Antonio, throwing insults at him and laughing.

"All right, children, break it up this instant!" Mrs. Murdock demanded and like a trickle of water overflowing to a spill, the children dispersed.

The young teacher then assisted Antonio to his feet and dusted the dirt from his clothes. Antonio spit the collecting blood into the grass and watched as Violet was dragged away by her brother. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. This would bruise tomorrow.

"Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Murdock asked, kneeling down in front of the boy.

"Mm-hmm," Antonio nodded. "I'm okay."

"What happened? You're bleeding!"

"I…uh, fell. I tripped and fell down," Antonio replied.

"Come on; let's take you to the nurse's office to get you cleaned up and get you some ice, okay?" Mrs. Murdock offered a smile.

"I think I'll be okay," Antonio said.

"No, no, we'd better go. Come on," Mrs. Murdock placed her hand on Antonio's shoulder and led the fourth grader to the nurse's office.

* * *

Feliciano breathed out and it became a small cloud of air. She was back. The girl Marcello always talked to had returned. She never failed to make the room unbelievably cold. After watching him for a few moments, she then drew her perfectly manicured nails (claws?) along his bare skin and the hot, sticky blood trailed down his arms and face. She continued observing him like a hawk, circling around him as a bird would when it found a carcass in the midst of wasteland.

"_**Lose yourself," **_she whispered. _**"Let yourself go."**_

"_**You're nothing."**_

"_**You're unloved."**_

"_**No one wants you."**_

Those whispers flew around in his head like an agitated hornet's nest. Buzzing around, stinging at his psyche to make him give in. How could he hear them though? All sound had been blocked from him yet… he was hearing her voice perfectly clear. Her mind-numbing, horrifying voice.

"_**But we want you."**_

"_**Come with us—join us."**_

"_**We'll make you important again."**_

"_**Forget everything you've ever known."**_

It was there. It was inside his head. He shook his head quickly, hoping to dispel those whispers.

She then left as if having never been there in the first place.

He could finally relax when she exited. However, his teeth chattered and he trembled violently. He was unaware of how long he'd been locked up in this room—days? Months? Years? There was no telling. All he knew was that his hands were bound together behind his back and he couldn't see or hear. There was no light. There was no sound. Just relentless darkness and silence. An abyss of nothing.

No birds chirping.

No sunshine.

Everything was gone.

He shifted around and the disgusting feeling of his wet clothes rubbing against his skin made him squirm. He could feel the dried up mud from the puddles he had been thrown into on what he assumed was his first day in this cell caked on his clothing and face. He itched from the filth.

The stinging pain from the wounds inflicted on him by the knife and increased agony by the salt had subsided greatly. It was still there, though, creeping along his body in both strong and gentle waves to be a reminder. He wanted to die in those few minutes that the cold knife was driven into his skin. He wanted to warn Ludwig to escape with Sienna so they wouldn't suffer the same fate they did.

He felt his stomach rumble and demand food. His parched throat cried for water. He smacked his lips just thinking about it. Feliciano then felt something scurry across his feet and he pulled them back with a startled cry. Either that was a very small cat or a large rat. He didn't know how much more he could take. The rats had been nibbling at his clothing at the rare times he would be completely still. He was going to go insane if this went on any longer! He was losing it! He was losing himself!

_No…_

_No…!_

_Don't let the darkness take you. Don't let it. Don't let it rule you. Be stronger than it. Fight it! Don't be afraid. Don't forget. Don't forget. Don't forget. Some things must not be forgotten._

_My name…_

_My name is Feliciano._

_My name is Feliciano… Vargas. I am 34 years old._

_I live in Cuore, Italy._

_No, that's wrong. That's all wrong. I don't live in Italy anymore._

_I live in…_

_I live in…_

…_Germany! That's it! I live in Germany!_

_Berlin, Germany…_

_I have a family… a wife—no, a husband—and a daughter… a brother… a nephew… what were their names? Names… name… what were their names? I need names! Focus, Feliciano! Remember!_

_Don't forget, don't forget. Hold on tightly to those you love._

_My name… is… is… I am Feliciano._

_Don't forget…_

_Don't…_

…_forget…_

* * *

"Hmm, I wonder…" Sienna looked at the map of Berlin and turned it every which direction. "I have no clue where else to go. Do you know Axis?"

The dog just tilted its head in response and blinked its big brown eyes.

"Gilbird? Any thoughts?" Sienna scratched the bird on its belly gently with her forefinger. The yellow chick only chirped in response.

"Damn," Sienna murmured. "We've checked all of the buildings that are old and abandoned."

She sat down and let out a heavy sigh. Axis rested his head in her lap, whining softly as she scratched behind the German Shepherd's ears.

"You guys hungry? I know I am," Sienna dug in her bag. Hmm… only enough food to last her until the end of the day. She'd have to be going home soon. But she hadn't found her mom yet. She wouldn't be able to look her father in the eyes and tell him that she had failed.

She wouldn't be able to bear it.

Axis suddenly lifted his head, ears twitching. His head swiveled back and forth, listening and processing. The dog then ran to the building behind them, whining with his tail between his legs.

"Axis! Get back here! Axis! We already checked that building!" Sienna ran after her precious pet. "Axis!"

She froze in the long narrow corridor. It was darker than before. It wasn't at all like the first time she explored this warehouse. There was nothing inside. But this time… this time… there was something there. And she didn't appreciate the vibe at all.

"Axis…?" Sienna whispered. "Axis… Come on out, boy… let's go home."

The air dropped rapidly in temperature and she swore she could see her breath.

"Axis…?" her teeth were chattering now. "Axis! Come on, boy! Let's get out of here! We gotta go home!"

"_**Then let's visit home sweet home, shall we?"**_

Sienna's world went entirely dark.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the delay, everyone. I hope you're still enjoying this story even if it's not as great as Midnight Dancers. Inspiration is just a little low. Anyway, I won't bother you with such insignificant details.**

**Happy reading~!**

**Please, please review! It would help so very much~ *is trying to reach 50 reviews* /shot.**

**Warning: Language**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

_Antonio opened his eyes to find himself in The Pit—that's what he decided to call this evil, godforsaken place. It was nothing but a black hole that sucked him into the deepest and darkest recesses of his mind. He looked around for Camille. She was nowhere to be found. _

_How odd, he thought. She usually followed him. The eerie mist tickling his ankles sent chills throughout his entire body and goose bumps crawled up his arms._

_Taking caution, Antonio stood and stepped forward, being absolutely careful not to brush the headstones with numbers—especially Number 6. Wandering away from the immediate vicinity of the tombstones, Antonio headed towards the back of the graveyard, reading each tablet. If he wasn't careful, he would miss the fine line between the numbers and names and end up going too far._

_11… 12… 13…_

_Here they were._

_Emilio and Adelita Carriedo._

_Antonio felt that twinge of sadness again, as if a piece of his heart was being torn. It was just a small incision, nothing to really fret over. But Antonio worried about it. He wondered what it meant, this sadness. He had no ties to these people. None whatsoever. And if he did, his father failed to mention them._

_Maybe I saw them when I was a baby, Antonio figured._

_But he wouldn't have remembered them, would he? He could barely remember what happened earlier that day—he paused on that thought. Of course he remembered what happened. How could he forget? His jaw still throbbed from the solid blow that was dealt._

_The anger and hatred burning in Caleb's eyes was also hard to erase from his mind. Antonio rubbed at his sore and bruised face. He sighed. He could've easily hit back. He didn't know why he didn't though. He was supposed to be tough like his dad. Why couldn't he be…? Maybe he was afraid he would get in trouble, too._

_Then his dad would be very disappointed in him if he got in trouble during his first week of school. Instead of causing trouble he should be focused on making a good impression. There was nothing that sickened him more than his father to be disappointed in him. It made his stomach wrap itself in one huge, painful knot that took days to unravel. It made his heart sink so low into his stomach. It honestly made him ill._

_Like the one time he lied to his dad about breaking one of the glass cups when he was trying to reach for a bowl so he could get himself some cereal. He cut his hand and had blamed it on the Siberian Husky puppy his father had gotten for him who he named Michaelis._

"Now how Michaelis managed to make it up there, I will never know. He must be some kind of super-dog," Lovino grabbed the broom so he could sweep up the mess.

"Yeah… a super-dog," Antonio had shuffled his feet nervously.

"Are you sure Michaelis did it, Toni? I think he would have cut his paw or something. You're not lying to me, are you?" his father glanced at him from the corner of his eye, causing Antonio to flinch. There was no malice in those eyes—just curious expectation.

"Nu-uh."

"You know how I feel about lying, Antonio. I won't be mad if you just tell me the truth."

Uh-oh—his full name. He was in deep trouble.

"I-I'm not lying, Papa," Antonio's eyes shifted away from his father's.

"You should probably go get a Band-Aid for that cut, Antonio. You don't want it to get infected," Lovino turned his back to the boy and continued picking up the glass.

Antonio would never forget the look in his father's eyes that day. Utter disappointment. He later apologized to his father about breaking the glass and for lying.

There was a knowing light in Lovino's eyes, "I already knew you broke the glass. I wasn't upset about that. What I was upset about is that you lied to me about doing it. I was disappointed in you, Antonio. To me, it wasn't as if I didn't have your trust as you have mine."

"I'm sorry, Papa," Antonio hugged him tightly.

His father had of course forgiven him but the sheer guilt was enough to make Antonio's stomach cramp for the next hour.

_Brushing that memory aside, Antonio knelt in front of their graves, his fingers ghosting over their mossy surface. Who were these people and why did he feel so compelled to visit them? He knew nothing save for the small strumming in the back of his heart and mind._

"_Antonio," a voice whispered behind him._

_Swiftly turning, Antonio saw the duo smiling down at him. Adelita knelt down and tenderly stroked the bruise on the boy's face. He winced, expecting her touch to be freezing but it was surprisingly warm._

"_You poor thing," she sighed, her native language being spoken. "He hit you so hard."_

"_W-Who are you?" Antonio didn't dare pull away. The feeling that ran through his body was too familiar for him to. He had to know these people. He just had to! What he also found odd was that he could understand what they were saying. They were speaking Spanish but he was Italian, wasn't he? He shouldn't be able to understand what they were saying at all._

"_We're friends of your father," Emilio replied with little to no hesitation._

"_How come I've never met you before?" Antonio looked back and forth between the two._

"_We… never had the honor of meeting you before you were born, Toni. We passed away shortly after you were born," Adelita said._

_Antonio nodded, suffice with that answer._

"_We're so proud of you, Antonio," the woman hugged him close so he could feel the warmth radiating from her. "We love you so much."_

_Antonio, much to his surprise, hugged the woman back. That void that had been drilled into his heart was filled. Maybe there was some good here in The Pit. Maybe it wasn't such a terrifying place after all. Only one word came to mind as he saw Miss Adelita in a different light:_

_Mother._

_This woman was his mother. Why hadn't he realized it before when he met her the first time? The resemblance was evident. And this man… this man was his—_

_Antonio suddenly couldn't breathe anymore. Instead of being hugged by the sweet Spanish woman, she had her hands clasped firmly around his throat, smiling wickedly. He coughed as the smell of liquor burned his nostrils. Antonio pulled her hands away weakly, the lack of oxygen beginning to take its toll._

"_Die," Adelita hissed._

* * *

"He fell right to sleep when he lay down. I was trying not to let him in case he suffered a concussion when he fell but he told me he was fine. Of course, I didn't take his word for it but he was asleep before I could do much else," the nurse explained to Lovino as the Italian watched the boy sleep.

Lovino was eyeing the darkening bruise on Antonio's jaw, not bothering to pay much attention to the nurse. However he did manage to catch the words "concussion" and "fall." Lovino was thinking otherwise. This was no fall. Someone hit his son and had gotten away with it. He would remain quiet today, for Antonio's sake. But tomorrow there would be hell raised.

"Thank you. I'll be sure to check him into the doctor," Lovino moved towards his son to wake him.

As soon as Lovino placed his hand on Antonio's shoulder, said child inhaled deeply and coughed strongly, putting his hand to his throat to check if there was still something there. Lovino and the nurse jumped back in surprise while Antonio processed his surroundings in a frantic haze.

"Where am I?" Antonio repeated the question rapidly in Italian.

"You're in the nurse's office at school," Lovino said calmly in the same language. "You're safe. Nothing can hurt you here. You're safe and sound."

The nurse stood there, absolutely baffled. What in the world had happened? Did Antonio have a nightmare? If so, that was the worst case she's seen in her years of being a mother and nurse. By how evenly Lovino was acting, she assumed that this was normal. She watched as Lovino murmured comforting things to Antonio in Italian, noticing the immediate effect it had on the boy.

"Papa…" Antonio murmured, still trying to gather the rest of his senses. His words came out in slurred Italian. "You're here… why? Is school over?"

"No, I'm picking you up early. That was quite a fall you took, huh?" Lovino responded in the same language. He didn't think Antonio would respond well to the English with as muddled his mind was right now.

"Uh-huh," Antonio nodded and scratched his head.

"Come on, I've got your backpack," Lovino aided Antonio in standing off the recovery couch.

Antonio, without his realizing it, grabbed onto Lovino's hand tightly.

"Thank you for your help. I'll keep him home tomorrow to make sure nothing's wrong with him," Lovino threw a small smile at the nurse and she blushed lightly. Walking out with his son, Lovino helped Antonio climb into the backseat.

"You haven't been getting enough sleep, have you, Antonio?" Lovino glanced in the rearview mirror once they were on the road. "Is it the nightmares again?"

Antonio was quiet. He didn't want to tell his dad that the nightmares had returned. Every time he felt out of control in his life was when he was most vulnerable to those dark memories flooding his mind and drowning him within his subconscious. He was doing so well. He wanted to keep doing well and maybe they would go away entirely. The boy knew that this would never be the case.

Marcello was out and about plotting against them, wishing them dead. Of course that man still plagued his mind on top of the fact that he was in a new school without any friends (except Violet but he didn't want to think about her right now). And then there was Caleb and his little flunkies. Antonio knew they wouldn't leave him alone even if he never spoke to Violet again.

They preyed on kids like him. They fed off their helplessness. Not to mention the blonde had the teachers wrapped around his finger. Antonio was new. There was no way the adults would believe him if he told them Caleb was bullying him. And it wasn't like Antonio was strong enough to hold his own. He hadn't hit any sort of growth spurt or any strength to intimidate such a boy. Sure he could talk the talk, but could he walk the walk? It was a lose-lose situation for the small newbie.

"Antonio?" Lovino's voice called him back.

"Yes?" said boy looked up.

"I asked you if the nightmares had come back."

"Oh. No, they haven't. I've just been up late watching TV is all," Antonio said.

Another lie. Why did he resort to that? Why? He was just going to get caught again! And then he would be in even more trouble this time because it's not some silly glass he broke.

Lovino raised an eyebrow, "Antonio Vargas."

"I-I'm not lying, Papa," Antonio avoided making eye contact at all costs, knowing he would soon reap what he had sown.

* * *

"There is no way in hell I'm letting you go out there alone!" Gilbert shouted, his eyes burning.

"I'm not just going to sit here and let whoever took them from me get away. That is unacceptable," Ludwig's expression was caught between a raging hurricane and the calm before the storm.

"You could be killed! And what then? They'd have to go on without you!" Gilbert was desperately struggling to get through to his stubborn younger brother. All of this emotional havoc was tearing at him from the inside out. It was only a matter of time before the young man snapped.

"As long as I attempt, I can die with a somewhat peaceful conscience. If I sit here I will never be able to live with myself. I'm going to die trying," Ludwig said.

"You're my little brother, Ludwig. I told Dad that I'd take care of you!" Gilbert reasoned.

"I'm not a child anymore. There is no need for you to look after me. I can take care of myself."

"But you're my little brother all the same! When will you get that through your thick head? I care about you, idiot! You're not thinking straight right now! They're my family, too! I don't know what I'd do if I lost all of you or even one of you!" Gilbert could see that his logic wasn't getting through to the stubborn blonde.

Ludwig was about to retort but a knock at the door made the words freeze on Ludwig's tongue. Gilbert impatiently answered the door, demanding what the visitor wanted.

"My name is Michael, I'm with the Italian police. I've been told Ludwig Bielschmidt currently resides here," the man at the door said.

"What business is it of yours?" Gilbert challenged.

"I just need to ask him some harmless questions, that's all. It regards the abduction of his family," Michael put up both hands as a sign of peace. "You may stick around just so I can prove to you that I have no ulterior motive."

Gilbert's eyes narrowed, "What information do you have?"

"First I'd like Ludwig to come out so I don't have to repeat myself, if it's all the same to you," the Italian held his hands behind his back, clearly annoyed with the platinum blonde man.

"Yo, Ludwig, this guy is here to see you," Gilbert called back inside the house, never taking his eyes off the mysterious officer.

"Ja?" Ludwig made it absolutely clear that he was not in the mood for this.

"I'm sure you remember me, Mr. Bielschmidt," Michael stuck his hand out to shake.

Gilbert scoffed inwardly, thinking, _Stupid prick didn't shake my hand._

"Yes. Michael, right?" Ludwig shook it.

"Correct. Well I'm here because I have information regarding your family," Michael explained. "We believe that we may have discovered their location. It's right here in Germany but the trip is a long one. If you wish to accompany me in the investigation so when we recover your family and you can immediately see them, I'm going to give you by the end of the week to pack up what you need. I have other errands to run which is another reason there's such a large time span."

By the look on Ludwig's face, Michael continued, "It's a take it or leave it offer."

"Fine," the German turned away.

"Glad to know that we've come to an agreement," Michael smiled. "I'll see you soon. Be ready."

The Italian man left, leaving the brothers alone once again.

"Ludwig," Gilbert pulled the man to the side, whispering harshly. "What do you think you're doing making a deal with this man?"

"I'm going to find my family," Ludwig answered plainly. "What are you doing?"

Gilbert ignored the sarcastic remark, "I don't trust this guy. He's bad news."

"When did you start acting so logical?" Ludwig tore his arm away.

"When you started acting like an idiot!" the shorter of the two retorted.

"I'm going. Whether you come or not is your choice."

"No. I think I'm going to sit this one out."

"Makes no difference to me," Ludwig then retired to his room for the night.

* * *

_Breathe. Just keep breathing. Don't let it get to you. It's not real! It's not real! _Feliciano repeated inside his head where there were horrible images of his family being mutilated and murdered. Their screams reverberated throughout his entire body.

Camille giggled, sending another image into the fragile Italian's mind. Feliciano yelled in terror, trying to wipe away the "blood" that was splattering on his face and the tears that burned his eyes.

"_Stop! Please!" _Feliciano begged, soaking the blindfold with salty tears. "Stop! Stop it!"

"That'll be enough for the day, Camille. Anymore and he might pass out. We don't want that, especially with his daughter watching," Marcello ordered.

Feliciano fell over to the side, crying amongst the filth, weakened both mentally and physically. Sienna, with eyes glazed over by fresh tears, tried calling out to her mom again. She couldn't bear watching Feliciano crumple into a messy heap on the floor. The Italian was shaking visibly even in the dim light.

What could she do? She was powerless in this situation! She wished her dad was here to get them out of this mess. He would know what to do. He always knew what to do.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"What do you mean it was just an accident?" Lovino demanded over the phone. "It was anything _but _that! Some kid hit my son and I want to find out who did it!"

Antonio sat at the top of the stairs, listening to his father argue with the principal. He brought his knees to his chest and locked his arms around them. What he had told his father about falling had been a lie. What was up with him and lying lately? It was just creating more problems and his father was a smart man. Of course he'd figure it out sooner or later (Antonio preferred the latter however).

He wished Camille was here. She would know what to do. She would make things better. She'd take him away from this place, even if it was just for a little while. He wished he could stay in The Graveyard of Angels forever. It was so much nicer there. It was a place where he felt in control.

Sighing, Antonio didn't bother to hear the rest of the conversation and retreated to his room. He watched the kids playing outside from the window seat, wishing that he could join them. There was just one problem: he wouldn't fit in. Those kids were well known and liked and him? He was just some kid who arrived here from another country and could barely speak the language.

He didn't want to go back to school tomorrow. But he had to face his fears like a big kid and not some little baby who cried about everything. He had to face his fears head on and show that bully Caleb he wasn't afraid. He was Antonio Vargas, son of Lovino Vargas.

Michaelis nuzzled up to him, whining as he sensed the boy's troubled demeanor. He touched the quarter-sized bruise and winced slightly. Caleb hit him once and had gotten away with it. That wouldn't happen again.

"_You don't ever throw the first punch. But you be sure that you throw the last one."_

Antonio would return to school tomorrow and act as if nothing was wrong. He wasn't going to start trouble. He was going to carry on like normal, trying to make new friends and get good grades as he had when he was back home in Italy. America would be no different.

With nothing left to do, Antonio pulled out his workbook from his backpack and settled on finishing his homework, something he never thought he'd do willingly.

* * *

After school, Antonio picked at the blades of grass near the playground and made a small pile while he waited for his father to show up. He had recently been rejected by a group of kids he asked to play with and took it upon himself to isolate himself from the others to spare them the duty of insulting him. He was keeping himself busy by counting the tiny green plants.

…75… 76… 77… 78…

"Hey Toni," Violet hesitantly approached the boy with a nervous smile on her face.

"Oh. _Ciao,_ Violet," Antonio gave a small nod in acknowledgement but didn't bother making eye contact.

"H-How are you feeling?" she sat down next to him.

"I feel fine."

"Good," the blonde stared off into the distance.

There was an overwhelming silence that settled over the duo. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? What could he do? Nothing, that's what. He could do nothing. Bored, Antonio continued his task of pulling at the grass and piling them up.

…79…80…81…82…

"I'm sorry, Toni. I really am. My brother is just a big jerk," she sniffled quietly, on the verge of tears. Violet cared about Antonio—she truly did. She wanted to be his friend.

"There is no need to apologize," Antonio lost count of the blades of grass. "It is just a bruise. Nothing more. I am fine."

"No, he hit you, Toni! I always lose friends because of him and I'm tired of it! It is not okay!"

"I promise you it is. Now you'd better get going before your brother catches us together. I don't want you getting hurt," Antonio said, still not looking at the girl.

"Toni, how can you sit there and take this? My brother doesn't have the right to treat you the way he does! He is acting ridiculous! You are acting ridiculous!" Violet was on her feet now, riven with anger.

"I don't want him to hurt you. Better me than you," Antonio replied in monotone.

"How can you say that? Toni, you're better than he is! I know that's my brother but it's the truth!"

"You can't take a hint, can you, kid?" a familiar, domineering voice rang out. "I tell you to never speak with my sister again and yet here you are, talking to her. I guess I didn't hit you hard enough, huh?"

Antonio had stopped attacking the small patch of grass by this point and blatantly ignored the taller boy. On that note, Caleb grabbed Antonio roughly by his shirt and pulled the boy to his feet. Green fire met with hazel ice as the two glared each other down, wishing the other would simply disappear.

Caleb was inwardly taken aback at Antonio's boldness. No other kid had ever done such a thing. He had to hand it to the boy—Antonio had guts. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to pay the price. The taller one glanced around. No teachers were in the immediate vicinity. Perfect setting.

"Caleb, stop! Leave him alone!" Violet pled.

"Now you've gone and made Violet upset. That is unacceptable. Looks like you need to be taught another lesson. Welcome to America, kid."

Antonio didn't remember much after that.

* * *

Lovino pulled up to the school ten minutes after the students were released for the day. From where he had parked, he scanned the area for Antonio as the boy was usually waiting in the front of the school. Lovino climbed out of his car, deciding to ask one of the teachers.

"Ah, Mr. Vargas! It's nice to see you again!" Ms. Murdock smiled kindly, approaching the man when she noticed something was off. "Is everything all right?"

"Have you seen Antonio? I can't find him," Lovino said, still scrutinizing the sea of kids.

"He stayed behind to finish up some classwork but I figured he'd be done by now. When I didn't see him out here I thought you had already picked him up," the woman answered, now growing concerned for her new student. "He might've gone out the back towards the playground."

And before Lovino could head that direction, a teacher was already advancing towards them and tugging Antonio and Caleb by their wrists. Both boys were red in the face and covered in dirt, bruises and minor cuts, looking absolutely mortified.

"I caught these two fighting on the playground," the teacher said.

Lovino's expression was one of incredulity.

* * *

Everything hurt.

Everything hurt so badly.

Another slosh of nausea beat against him and the bile rose up in his throat again. He coughed heavily. The concrete he was pressed against felt great on his sweat-drenched face. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow and sporadic.

He was falling again.

The darkness was taking him again.

And this time, he wasn't entirely sure if he should push it away or embrace it. One would cause further pain. One wouldn't. It was simple logic. He could either keep fighting and endure… or he could let go and be free from all the hurt. But his family—his beautiful family. What would they do without him?

How much longer would he be in this hell? How much more could he possibly take?

"_**I don't know why you're hanging on so tightly,"**_ Camille commented, clearly exasperated. _**"They want nothing to do with you."**_

"Get out of my head…!" Feliciano demanded feebly from his disadvantageous position. "Get out… get out… get out…"

"Leave him alone! Leave Mom alone!" Sienna cried out, her throat raw from doing so.

"_**Quiet, human or you're next!" **_Camille's voice screeched like nails on a chalkboard.

"Just leave him alone! If you leave Mom alone, you can do whatever you want to me! I won't even fight back," Sienna offered, her eyes illustrating her desperation.

At this, Camille looked the least bit intrigued.

"You can have my soul!" Sienna shouted. "I heard you and that guy talking about souls! You can have mine! Just please… please don't hurt him anymore. I can't bear to watch it."

"_**You do realize what you're getting yourself into, don't you, girl? You won't ever see your mother or father again. Are you willing to live with that?" **_Camille cocked a curious brow.

"I am more than willing. If you give me your word that you will release Mom and never ever touch my parents again, you can have my soul," Sienna nodded vigorously.

Camille crossed her heart, _**"Demon's honor."**_

"Then take it. It's yours."

Camille smirked.

Silly girl.

* * *

"Do you mind telling me about what happened at school today with that kid?" Lovino broke the silence at the dinner table.

Antonio kept quiet so Lovino asked in Italian this time, hoping to get an answer out of his son. When he didn't receive one, Lovino tried a different approach.

"Antonio," the Italian's voice took a strict turn. "What is going on? Why won't you talk to me?"

"Because there's nothing to be said, Papa. I don't feel like talking about it," Antonio kicked his green beans around with his fork.

"When will you then? Because, quite frankly, you aren't doing either of us a favor by keeping this hidden from me," Lovino was getting frustrated. "You're lying all the time, you constantly want to be alone—what is wrong? I can't help if you don't tell me."

"Maybe I don't want your help," Antonio said, now looking up from his untouched food with daggers in his eyes. It was a look Lovino had never seen before. "Maybe I want you to stop treating me like I'm a baby."

"By asking you what's going on at school is treating you like a baby?" Lovino tried to keep his voice steady. He didn't like where this was going in the least. "You're still a kid, mind you, Antonio. You're ten years old, not twenty so I suggest you fix your attitude before I fix it for you."

"I'm a big kid though! I don't need to be treated like a baby who can't take care of themselves!" Antonio retorted, his temper flaring.

"So you basically want me to let you run off and do your own thing? Not going to happen. No matter what you say, you're still a kid who needs to be provided for," Lovino folded his hands on the table.

There was a pregnant silence.

"Now I'm going to ask you again: what has been going on between you and this Caleb kid?"

"Nothing, Papa! Nothing! Drop it already! I took care of it myself!" Antonio was at his feet now and slammed his hands on the table. "I'm going to get in trouble either way so leave it alone! You wouldn't understand!"

"Hey—!"

"You go around living a perfect life while I'm at school getting beat up by kids I don't even know! We moved away from home—away from all my friends and family! You will never understand! I hate that school! I hate this country! And most of all, I hate _you!"_

Antonio screamed the words before he could stop them and how he wanted to take it all back. Lovino's stomach dropped almost as low as his heart did. Upon finally piecing it together, the Italian no longer looked at the boy and stared at his plate.

"It's late. You need to get ready for bed."

"Papa, I didn't—I didn't mean—" Antonio couldn't find the words when they came so easily before.

"Go, Antonio."

"Papa—"

"_Go."_

The ten-year-old sluggishly left the table, wanting more than anything for his father to call him back and tell him that they would somehow work it out. But it never came. So Antonio went to bed with a hold being drilled into his heart.

Thinking of nothing else, Lovino cleaned off the table and started running the hot water to wash the dishes. He watched as the suds filled up more than half the sink, not seeming to be able to shake Antonio's last words to him. To break his train of thought, Lovino's phone began to ring. The Italian stared at it, seriously considering just letting it ring. He checked the screen for a caller I.D. and it read "Blocked."

It couldn't be…! He swallowed thickly, mustering up some much needed courage.

_Answer the phone, Lovino. Just answer it. Your brother's life depends on it. Answer the damn phone!_

"Hello?"

"_Hello, mi amore. How are you doing this wonderful day?"_

"I'm tired of all your shit, Marcello. Let me talk to Feliciano, you sick bastard," Lovino growled.

"_He is unavailable at the moment. But we do have someone else you can talk to."_

There was a pause, _"Uncle Lovi, help me, please."_

"Sienna?"

"_They've got Mom locked up," _she sniffled. "_They're killing him…!"_

"_You see what you've made me do, Lovi?" _Marcello was back on the phone. _"You've made me kidnap your adorable little niece in high hopes that it'll show that I'm not fucking around. I know where you are, Lovi. This is a test to see how much you love those who are important to you."_

Lovino didn't quite know what to say to that.

"_My orders still stand—bring your asses over here or this'll be the last time you'll ever hear from your brother and niece again."_

_Click._

Lovino listened to the dial tone for another agonizing minute before hanging up. He leaned against the counter for support, suddenly feeling very weak. What was he going to do?

At the top of the stairs, Antonio heard every word on his father's end. His heart beat unbearably loud in his ears and his blood turned to ice. Marcello had Sienna and he was going to kill her. He just knew he was! He had to do something and fast!

But what? He was thousands of miles away from Germany! There was no way he'd reach her in time! In despair, Antonio plopped on his window seat, praying to God for a miracle. He had to save his family. There was no other option. He had to swallow his fear and be a big kid and face the enemy.

A small flutter from the window caught his eye.

Paper?

It had been jammed into the window sill. He carefully slid the paper out and read over it quickly since it was written in his native language.

_Antonio,_

_ You don't know me but I work with the Italian police. My name is Michael and I have been assigned the duty of rescuing your uncle and cousin. I have already asked your father if he would like to join me in Germany to be there for the investigation but he said no. _

_I know you're old enough to make your own decision (congratulations on the big 1-0). If you would like to come, flicker your bedroom light. One for yes, twice for no._

_I will be waiting._

_ —Michael_

Antonio flicked his light once.


	11. RESULTS

**The vote is as stands:**

_**Should I redo Midnight's Kiss?**_

**Yes: 11 (73%)**

**No: 4 (26%)**

So. Those who _just _started following this story, I _strongly _suggest following me so you can be notified when its new version is finally released. I sincerely apologize to all of you. Not because I'm redoing it, but because I fed you the crap I did. I am disappointed in myself as an author and I did not give it my all on this story.

I was frustrated and tired when I started writing and school was not helping my case in the slightest. Just know that I am working hard to get this story underway and back out here. Progress is slow because of notorious reasons: school and whatever familial issues that somehow finds a way to pop up when I'm in a great mood.

**As for my other stories:**

_Midnight's Promise _is going strong. Chapter Five is in the making.

_Schism _is still a work-in-progress (possible hiatus again; just trying to be the best I can be).

_Clarity _is pretty much dead to me (I'm horrible, I know).

_Why Did I Get Married _was just an experiment. I'll work on that when I have some free time. Which will probably be never but we'll see.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, if you did. Your support is much appreciated and though I may not respond, know that each and every single alert, PM, and review mean the absolute world to me. You all inspire me to keep going and stay up as late as I do.

Thank you again.

Until next time, this is Crimson signing out.

Hasta la pasta~


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